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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.|:iZ^ Copyright No. 

Shell 7 F 


UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 






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“peace be with you.” Page 20 





















FATHER JEROME 


21 Storg of tl)t Spaniol) Jnqnimtion. 


BY ^ 

Mrs. HATTIE ARNOLD CLARK, 

. « 

AUTHOR OF “ PRO CHRISTO.” 


**Man is greater than you thought him; 

The bondage of long slumber he will break. 
His just and ancient rights he will reclaim: 
With Nero and Busiris he will rank 
The name of Philip.”— Schiller. 


“ Misericordia et Justitia .”— of the Inquisition, 


With the King or the Inquisition 
Hush! Hush.”— Proverb, 


NEW YORK: 

AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 


43091 

Copyright, 1899, 

BY 

THE AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
TVyo COPIES RECEIVED, 



COPY 

\ 






This Tage 

of Gratitude and t/Ijfection 
is inscribed 


Zo an f)onorc& anD :f6clopc& 

whose counsel and sympathy have for 
many years been a source 
of joy and strength. 


Worcester. Mass., March. 1899. 


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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS. 


The author is indebted to the following sources 
for information: 

History of Ferdinand and Isabella. Prescott. 
History of Philip II. of Spain. Prescott. 

Wild Spain. Professors Chapman and Buck. 
Spanish Legends. Middlemore. 

Old Court Life in Spain. Elliott. 

The Martyrs of Spain. Charles. 

The Religious History of Spain. Dr. Henry C. 
Lea. 

The Schools of the Jesuits. Robert H. Quick. 
The Jesuits. Encyclopaedia Britannica. 

History of the Reformation. Merle D’Aubigne, 
D.D. 

History of Spain. Harrison 

S 



TO THE READER. 


The cruelty and treachery which characterized 
Spain's relations with her American colonies have 
led us to examine her past history. 

The following- pages deal with the reformation 
in Spain in the sixteenth century and with that ter- 
rible engine of destruction, the Spanish Inquisition. 
Everything here related of the noble band of men 
and women who were martyred for their faith is 
strictly true. 

Fanaticism armed with power is the mortal foe 
of liberty. The vestures of the Christian church in 
all ages have been dyed with the blood of its 
‘‘ heretics." God has written his condemnation on 
the pages of history. 

Spain’s political decadence was largely due to 
her censorship of the press and to the Inquisition. 
She has never recovered from the moral and irv 
tellectual marasmus into which she sank during the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The fires of 

7 


8 


TO THE READER, 


St. Dominic finally reverted upon the Spanish op- 
pressors themselves, and their fanaticism ate like a 
canker into the heart of the monarchy, until only a 
semblance of life remained in the body of what was 
once the proud ‘‘ Mistress of the World.’’ 

“ Speak, History ! Who are life’s victors ? 

Unroll thy long annals and say, 

Are they those whom the world called the victors— 
Who won the success of a day? 

The martyrs, or Philip ? The Spartans, 

Who fell at Thermopylae’s tryst. 

Or the Persians and Xerxes? His judges, 

Or Socrates ? Pilate, or Christ ? ” 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 


CHAPTER ' P^GK 

I. Around a Posada Fire ii 

II. The Festival of “Our Lady" 22 

III. Julian the Little 34 

IV. A Faithful Witness 48 

V. The Letter 55 

VI. The Secret Meeting 59 

VII. Father Padilla's Suspicions 70 

VIII. A Helping Hand 77 

IX. The Jesuit’s Conversion 92 

X. Coming into Light 106 

XI. The Nun of St. Catherine 116 

XII. The Story of a Life 125 

XIII. The Way of the Cross 134 

XIV. Weighed and Wanting 141 

XV. The Visit of the Alguazils 150 

XVI. In the Heart of the Storm 158 

XVII. The Holy House 168 

XVIII. The Flight i 75 

XIX. The Secret Tribunal 183 

XX. A Night of Anguish 191 


9 


10 


TABLE OF CONTENTS, 


chapter page 

XXL At Seville 201 

XXII. An Awakened Conscience 208 

XXIII. The Eve of the Auto 214 

XXIV. The Act of Faith 221 

XXV. The Experiment 229 

XXVI. Don Paulos the Penitent 235 

XXVII. Condemned 243 

XXVIII. A Rash Act 251 

XXIX. A Ray of Hope 257 

XXX. The Escape 264 

XXXI. At the Gypsy’s Camp 276 

XXXII. At Wittenberg 283 


FATHER JEROME: 

A STORY OF THE SPANISH INQUISITION. 


CHAPTER I. 

AROUND A POSADA FIRE. 

In the Spanish province of Aragon, about the 
year 1558, there stood in the ancient university 
town of Saragossa a posada or inn, called the Santa 
Isabel. This building was more than one hundred 
years old, having been erected previous to the reign 
of ‘‘ Isabella the Catholic.” There was a legend 
which stated that this royal maiden, while on her 
way to Valladolid to espouse Ferdinand, remained 
overnight at the Santa Isabel, disguised as a peas- 
ant girl, that she might escape from her mortal 
enemy, Villena, and his spies. 

Be this as it may, no one disputed the fact that 
the posada had reached a green old age. It was a 
long, low, rambling structure with huge chim- 
neys, in some of which whole colonies of swallows 


12 


FATHER JEROME. 


nested every spring, and reared an innumerable 
progeny. 

The old posada revelled in gable-ends and bal- 
conies; its floors were worn and uneven; the walls 
and ceilings were blackened by time’s long usage. 
The windows were numerous but primitive, being 
merely slits in the wall, glazed over so as to admit 
the light. The wide porch over the doorway was 
grotesquely ornamented with a rude carving of the 
Virgin and her child. Every evening in this hos- 
pitable inn might be found representatives of all 
classes and conditions of society, from the muleteer 
and goatherd returning from the mountain side, to 
the parish padre or the wealthy hidalgo. 

^ It was a dark rainy night. A dull leaden sky 
hung threateningly over the town of Saragossa. 
The waters of the Ebro rose higher and higher as 
if seeking to overflow their banks. The trees, which 
had just begun to show opening buds, bent pitifully 
before the spring gale. A sudden and more terrific 
blast howled down the chimneys and shook all the 
windows of the Santa Isabel with dismal force, and 
the opening of the outer door revealed the fact that 
the biting breath of old Boreas came direct from 
the snow-covered Pyrenees. 

“ God be with you, senors ! ” said the new- 
comer, a man with swarthy bronzed face, and 
clad in the Andalusian costume. 

“ The saints preserve us ! It is Juan Garcia him- 


AROUND A POSADA FIRE. 


13 


self, and not his ghost ! ’’ replied the genial land- 
lord, Antonio Payro, as he met the stranger with 
outstretched hands. 

It is a rough night, comrade. I did not expect 
to see you this spring, we have had such severe 
gales.’’ 

“ Why, Antonio, did you suppose I would miss 
the celebration of the festival of Our Lady of Sara- 
gossa ? A little bad weather makes no difference 
to Juan Garcia. The prayers of those who com- 
memorate the feast of the Cathedral del Pilar are 
rewarded by special favors and graces. If I would 
remain a successful silversmith, I must not fail to 
greet Our Lady at the time and place consecrated 
to this purpose. What comfortable quarters you 
have here, Antonio,” he added, as he approached 
the blazing fire to warm his chilled fingers. 

The scene was picturesque. The room which 
Juan had entered was long and narrow, the only 
light proceeding from a huge fireplace at the far- 
ther end. Over the pile of crackling logs a large 
caldron was suspended by a long chain. The fra- 
grant odor of the steaming olla or soup appealed 
agreeably to the senses. Around the wide chim- 
ney were ranged settles, on which lounged half a 
dozen peasants, engaged in telling ghost-stories. 
At the opposite end of the room, which was in 
darkness, could be heard the stepping of hoofs and 
the tinkling of bells, revealing the fact that the pack- 


14 


FATHER JEROME. 


mules were enjoying the hospitality of the Santa 
Isabel on an equal footing with their masters. 

After Juan had been refreshed with the olla^ 
bread and wine, he lighted a fragrant hreva and 
joined the group by the fire. 

What is the good word from Seville, senor ? 
asked one of the muleteers. News is slow in 
reaching us at Saragossa.” 

“ Perhaps you may not have heard,” replied 
Juan, that his majesty, the great Carlos, has 
finally abdicated the throne, and has entered the 
cloister of St. Just to pass the remainder of his 
days. He desires to put a little space of religious 
contemplation between the active portion of his life 
and the grave. He was led to this decision by the 
appearance of a new comet.” 

“ Ay de mi ! ” replied one of the peasants. “ Me- 
thinks we shall see dark days when his son Felipe 
Segundo returns to Spain and ascends the throne. 
I wonder how his majesty enjoys the Jeronymite 
monks.” 

“We hear that the emperor has suddenly be- 
come extremely devout, and his care for his own 
soul leads him to exercise great vigilance as to the 
spiritual concerns of the holy brethren. He has for 
some time observed that the younger monks spent 
more time conversing with the women who called 
at the convent gate on business than was seemly, 
and he has procured an order that any woman 


AROUND A POSADA FIRE. 


15 


who approaches within two bow-shots of the gate 
shall receive one hundred lashes.” 

A loud laugh from the peasants greeted this 
piece of information. 

'' It is a great pity,” said the landlord, ‘‘ that such 
an order could not be applied to Felipe Segundo. 
Reports tell us that his conduct in Brussels is scan- 
dalous. Disguised as a civilian, and in company 
with profligate young noblemen, he hesitates not 
to roam the streets at night and insult unprotected 
women. A hundred lashes would be a good tonic 
for him.” 

‘‘ You are right, Antonio,” said a goatherd; “but 
you must remember that the prince comes honestly 
by wild blood. The great Carlos himself was none 
too pious in his youth. Santa Maria ! It would be 
rare sport to see his majesty playing the saint ! ” 

“ He cuts a mighty poor figure at the business,” 
replied Juan. “ He has, you know, a sensitive mu- 
sical ear. One day when one of the monks made 
a discordant sound, the emperor paused in his de- 
votions, and swore roundly like the old campaigner 
he was and always will be. The story is that the 
abbot, in a fit of righteous indignation, turned upon 
him and said, ^ Cannot you be contented with hav- 
ing so long turned the world upside down, without 
coming here to disturb the quiet of a poor con- 
vent ? ’ But the most important piece of news 
which I carry,” continued Juan, throwing away his 


1 6 FA THER JEROME. 

breva and lowering his voice to a whisper, “ is that 
the new Lutheran heresy has again cropped out in 
Seville.’^ 

Antonio hastily crossed himself. Santa Maria 
and San Jose protect us ! ” he muttered. 

Juan continued: ‘‘The writings of Luther have 
been secretly distributed throughout the provinces, 
and it is surmised that the arch-heretic has quite a 
following in Spain. The emperor is greatly con- 
cerned about the matter, and has called the atten- 
tion of the government to the fact. They say that 
if the accursed thing does not die a natural death, 
Spain will be visited by another such a time of hor- 
ror and bloodshed as was witnessed at the expul- 
sion of the Jews.” 

“ The Holy Mother of God protect the church,” 
said one of the muleteers piously, “ and deal with 
all heretics as she did with San Roman fifteen years 
ago ! ” 

“ I don’t know anything about your San Roman 
whom you burned at Valladolid,” replied Juan, 
“ but I did know Don Rodrigo Valero whose robe 
of infamy hangs in the cathedral at Seville, and a 
nobler or better man never lived.” 

“ He was no Christian, Juan, else the church 
would not have punished him,” replied the land- 
lord. 

“Antonio, it was for being too good a Christian 
that he was punished. Valero was a good man and 


AROUND A ROSA DA FIRE, 


7 


constant unto death. Surely a hard thing ! a hard 
thing ! Let not us who know not what it is to lay 
down life presume to cast the first stone.” 

“ Holy Mother of Christ ! you are getting to 
be a heretic yourself, Juan.” 

Never ! I swear by all the saints,” answered 
the silversmith indignantly; “ but I have eyes to 
see and ears to hear, and although Valero may have 
been mistaken in his ideas of truth, nevertheless he 
was a good man, and you will say so too when I 
tell you his story. 

“ Don Rodrigo Valero was a nobleman, wealthy, 
chivalrous, and generous. In some way he obtained 
a copy of the Holy Scriptures, and he felt that he 
had found a treasure which he wanted every one 
to possess. He withdrew from society, and began 
to tell his good news. The Inquisition brought him 
before their tribunal. His rank and the interces- 
sion of noble relatives saved him from all punish- 
ment excepting a stern rebuke and a command to 
keep silence. He obeyed for a time, and refrained 
from all public speaking or teaching. But not for 
long. He was a second time brought to trial, and 
sentenced to imprisonment for life and the per- 
petual san henito. On festival days this nobleman 
was dragged through the streets clad in his yellow 
robe of shame. Seventeen years ago this day I saw 
him driven from his cell to the church of San Salva- 
dor. After the sermon by the bishop, his voice was 


i8 


FATHER JEROME. 


heard in words which have been ringing in my ears 
ever since: 

“ ‘ Poor sinners, confess your sins to Jesus. He 
alone is our mediator with God. He alone can for- 
give sins.’ 

“ After this day, Valero was not allowed to leave 
the monastery at San Lucas. And there, at the 
age of fifty, he died. His robe of infamy, which 
was of unusual size, still hangs in the great cathe- 
dral at Seville, and the inscription under it reads: 
‘ Rodrigo Valero, a citizen of Seville, an apostate 
and a false prophet, who pretended to be sent from 
God.’ Those poor lips are now mute, Antonio, but 
methinks they kindled a fire in Spain which is burn- 
ing to-day. I am no scholar and know nothing of 
the Scriptures, but it has always seemed to me that 
the words Valero spoke were good words.” 

“ It is not for us to judge of such things,” said 
Antonio. “ The priests have assured us that Va- 
lero and San Roman were both taught by the devil 
himself, as was Luther. We must not pretend to 
form any opinions which are not sanctioned by 
them. It is a dangerous thing for us to differ from 
our spiritual fathers. And this reminds me of an- 
other matter. Hast ever heard of the new order 
of monks which has been recently organized ? 
No ? Then mark my words, Juan. The whole 
world will one day ring with the deeds of this 
'Company of Jesus,’ as the new vsociety is called. 


AROUND A ROSA DA FIRE, 


19 


Our countryman, Ignatius Loyola, was the founder 
of the order, and is at present general of the com- 
pany at Rome. Quite a number of schools and 
colleges have already been started by the Jesuits 
in Spain.” 

It strikes me,” said Juan discontentedly, “ that 
we have sacred orders enough. Santa Maria! It takes 
about all a man can earn now to meet the demands 
of these holy fathers.” 

“ What say you, comrade, to a society which 
owns the souls and bodies of its members; which 
can send men to the ends of the earth as mission- 
aries or spies, and when one set of soldiers dies, can 
immediately recruit the required number to take 
their places ? ” 

“ Hush, Antonio I you are speaking too loudly,” 
said his friend. If what you say is true, and some 
of these Jesuits reside in your vicinity, it behooves 
us to speak less and think more. I wish that you 
had told me this earlier in the evening.” 

Things have reached a pretty pass in Aragon, 
if one friend cannot speak his mind to another friend 
in the privacy of his own home,” said Antonio with 
rising temper. 

Fax vobiscum, my children ! ” said a deep voice 
close at hand. 

The men around the posada fire started to their 
feet in fright at the unexpected sound. A tall figure 
stood before them, clad in a long robe and a close- 


20 


FATHER JEROME. 


fitting black cap, the uniform worn by the Jesuit 
priests. 

The face which the glare of the fire brought out 
in bold relief was a striking one. The expression 
was as haughty as that of any feudal count or baron. 
The noble forehead indicated great intellectual 
power. The sunken eyes were dark and piercing. 
The monk looked like one born to command. 

Peace be with you,” repeated the Jesuit, ad- 
vancing to the fire. ‘‘ It is a wild night.” 

Antonio, having recovered from his fright, now 
advanced. 

“Welcome, Senor Padre, to my humble abode. 
How may I best serve your reverence ? ” 

“ By giving me without delay a safe horse, which 
will take me to the university as speedily as possi- 
ble. The diligence broke down and will be unable 
to proceed any farther.” 

While the landlord despatched his servant to do 
his bidding, the padre scanned the group of peas- 
ants with keen eyes. Then he said in ironical tones: 

“ My children, you had better reserve your judg- 
ments of San Roman and Rodrigo Valero until you 
are better acquainted with the facts of their lives 
and their crimes. Surely they both had done vastly 
better for themselves, and for their posterity, and 
above all for the church, by silence and a holy life, 
than by proclaiming doctrines which unsettled the 
minds of others, and brought them nothing but 


AROUND A POSADA FIRE. 


21 


ignominy and death. When our holy church is- 
sues a command, the individual must give way.” 

Raising his hand in benediction, the Jesuit left 
the room as noiselessly as he entered. Soon the 
sound of a horse briskly trotting down the road an- 
nounced his departure. 

‘‘ Who was it ? ” inquired Juan as he looked at 
Antonio’s blanched face. 

Santo Cristo, my friend ! I am undone ! That 
man was none other than Sehor Francis Borgia, 
commissary general of Spain for the Society of 
Jesus.” 


CHAPTER II. 


THE FESTIVAL OF OUR LADY.” 

A PERFECT Spring day inaugurated the feast of 

Our Lady of Saragossa.” The sun shone from a 
cloudless sky. His rays fell upon the rugged pine- 
clad sierras of Montcayo and La Virgen, and tipped 
the snow - capped Pyrenees with roseate light. 
They made beautiful an old road, which wound 
with many a curve and bend over numerous vegas 
or plains resplendent in rose and lilac tints, and 
carpeted with green. 

This road crept up a steep mountain slope, now 
on the verge of a deep precipice, now through 
groves of stone pines and birches embedded in 
clumps of pampas grass; now over rocky wastes 
where vegetation was scanty, then amid sheltered 
valleys, where the Spanish gorse was ablaze with 
golden bloom, and the shy arbutus sent forth its 
delicate flowers; then again the old road ran paral- 
lel with salmon rivers or rushing mountain brooks 
abounding with trout. 

Along this ancient Roman highway pressed a 
motley throng of pilgrims of all ages and social 
conditions, from the muleteers,, charcoal-burners, 


22 


THE FESTIVAL OF OUR LADYF 


23 


vine-dressers, and beggars, to princes, wealthy hi- 
dalgos, and knightly Caballeros. Representatives 
were there, in large numbers, from the various con- 
vents and cloisters. Dominican, Franciscan, Jesuit, 
Cistercian, and Jeronymite monks marched in pairs, 
with stately tread, while devout nuns were present 
from Santa Clara, San Belen, St. Catherine^ and 
Santa Isabel de los Angeles. 

Some of the pilgrims rode donkeys, and occa- 
sionally a horse was to be seen, but by far the larger 
part were on foot. The day was far advanced when 
the procession marched through the streets of the 
city of Saragossa, — past the palaces of the nobility, 
the ruins of the Moorish citadel, the churches of 
San Pablo and San Felipe, — then at the foot of a 
steep ascent the goal was before them: the Cathe- 
dral del Pilar, as it is called. 

The legend of the cathedral was this: It was 
claimed that in the year 40 a.d. the Virgin alighted 
on the pillar of jasper, and manifested herself to 
Santiago when he passed through Saragossa. This 
event was so strongly attested that the primate of 
Spain threatened to excommunicate all who even 
questioned it. Many miracles were yearly reported 
to have been wrought before the pillar, and the 
image of the virgin which came down from heaven. 

Late in the afternoon, a nun walked over the old 
Roman road, barefooted and alone. She was clad 
in a coarse gray gown, black bonnet and veil, which 


24 


FATHER JEROME. 


proclaimed her residence in the convent of St. 
Catherine. It was the worn, haggard face of a 
woman past the meridian of life which her fellow 
pilgrims saw, as they looked compassionately at 
the wasted figure and bleeding feet of the lonely 
devotee. “ Some vow is upon this holy woman,” 
they said, as they saw her kneel at the wayside 
shrine and diligently repeat her prayers. 

Again and again kind assistance was proffered 
her, by those who marked her tottering steps and 
feeble condition, which she rejected with a shake 
of the head and a wan smile. On and up the steep 
mountain-side plodded the weary nun. Her cheek 
grew ashen. She clutched her rosary tighter in 
her hand, and muttered a prayer. Her face looked 
very old, with its tense expression of physical ex- 
haustion, and the record of pain, remorse, and dis- 
appointment which was traced in unmistakable 
lines on cheek and brow. She stopped to rest a 
moment, then rose and pressed on again. Then 
she uttered a despairing cry: Blessed Mother of 
God, must my vow remain unfulfilled when the 
end is almost in sight ? ” Then she reeled and fell 
unconscious to the ground. 

The next pilgrims to pass this way were an el- 
derly man with a dignified bearing and kind face, 
and a maiden of some eighteen years. The young 
girl was exceedingly fair to look upon. Her 
golden hair and large blue eyes betrayed a Flem- 


THE FESTIVAL OF ''OUR LADY," 


25 


ish ancestor. Her features were as delicately 
chiselled as a cameo. It was a face which would 
have realized an artist’s dream of the Madonna, 
so sweet and pure was its expression. This was 
Dona Irene, only daughter of Dr. Leon Sebastian 
of Valladolid. 

The maiden was the first to notice the prostrate 
figure of the nun. 

“ Look, father ! ” she cried. Some poor sister 
has fainted or dropped dead from exhaustion.” 

Hurriedly dismounting, Dona Irene hastened to 
the nun’s side. Dr. Sebastian poured some wine 
through the closed lips, while his daughter took a 
cup and filled it from a mountain brook, and, re- 
moving the ugly head-gear, tenderly laved the 
cheeks and brow of the stricken woman. All 
efforts to restore consciousness failed. The doctor 
glanced at the setting sun with anxious eyes. 

“ My child, I like not to leave you on this moun- 
tain slope after the dews begin to fall. You have 
been none too strong since your mother’s illness. 
Had it not been her last command, I should have 
insisted on your remaining at home. For myself, 
I have little faith that a visit to this celebrated 
shrine will heal our poor Carlos.” The doctor 
sighed. His wife, the gracious Dona Christina, 
whom he had wooed and won in the Netherlands, 
had been dead only a few months, and he had at 
home a crippled son, for whose sake this long jour- 


26 


FATHER JEROME. 


ney had been undertaken. The lamented Doha 
Christina had begged him with her dying breath 
to try this last resort for the idol of her heart. 

“ Do not worry about me, father,” replied Doha 
Irene. “ I do not think I shall take cold. Of 
course we could not go on and leave the blessed 
sister like this,” answering the unspoken question 
which hovered on her parent’s lips. “ Can we not 
place her on my horse ? I can easily walk the re- 
maining distance. See ! the spires of Saragossa 
are in sight ! ” 

I shall not allow you to walk a single step,” 
said the doctor decidedly. ‘‘ You are here against 
my better judgment, but at least you shall not be 
killed outright by your rashness. Should you be 
afraid to remain here for a short time while I go 
for assistance ? ” 

“ Oh no, father ! I am sure nothing would harm 
me while I am caring for this holy woman. Per- 
haps a great blessing will attend such service.” 

If she rouses, give her some more wine and 
the remains of our luncheon. I presume her faint 
is due to long-continued fasting. I will hasten to 
the nearest inn.” Wrapping his cape tenderly 
about his daughter, the doctor mounted the horse 
and rode quickly away. 

A feeling of loneliness crept over the girl as the 
sun finally dropped behind the glowing Sierras. 
The keen mountain air made her shiver. Just 


THE FESTIVAL OF ''OUR LADY.' 


27 


then the figure of a young man appeared on the 
highway. With swift feet he approached Dona 
Irene. The girl’s first feeling was one of alarm, 
but this changed to glad relief when she saw the 
youth’s face and marked his courteous bearing. It 
was an interesting face, yet one which it was diffir 
cult to understand. Its expression denoted both 
strength and weakness. Here were to be found 
regular features, a classical forehead, clear olive 
complexion, and a sensitive mouth. The beautiful 
dark eyes were eloquent with repressed longing. 
It was the face of one who could not pass through 
life without suffering keenly. Long vigils of study 
and meditation had deeply furrowed the broad 
brow, and chased the bloom from his cheek. 

Lifting his cap, he said with a winning smile, 
“ Can I be of any assistance, senorita ? I perceive 
that your friend is quite ill.” 

Before Dona Irene could reply, the nun sud- 
denly opened her eyes and struggled to rise. With 
a wild look she exclaimed, Whose voice was 
that ? Rodrigo, Manuel, have you come to re- 
proach me ? ” Then fastening her eyes on the 
young man, she continued more calmly: Is your 
name Rodrigo Valero ? ” 

No, madre. My name is Jerome Ortiz.” 

‘‘ Were you not born in Seville ? ” 

‘‘ No, my relatives lived in the province of Ara- 
gon, but they are all dead. I am an orphan.” 


28 


FATHER JEROME. 


“ Of course you are right, and I am mistaken. 
But your eyes looked for all the world like those 
of Doha Dolores. Still they took an oath upon 
the crucifix that the child was dead. Your face, 
sehor, reminded me of two brothers, one of whom 
has long been dead to the world, and the 
other has for many years been a saint in heaven. 
Yes, I dare to say it now that I am under God’s 
heaven. Though Rodrigo died under the ban of 
the church, yet I feel that he may belong to the 
church invisible. God is good. The blessed 
Mother is merciful. My pra^^ers and penances will 
avail. O for strength, that I may arise and fulfil 
my vow ! ” 

The nun’s eyes glittered with a feverish light, 
and excitement lent her strength. She rose to her 
feet. 

“ Father is coming,” cried Dona Irene in re- 
lieved tones, “ and he has friends with him. Wait 
one moment, good sister, and you shall have as- 
sistance.” 

The nun sank back exhausted by her agitation, 
and Dona Irene fed her with the bread and wine. 

My grateful thanks, senor, for your kind pro- 
tection of my daughter,” said Dr. Sebastian on his 
arrival. “ I did not like to leave her alone, but 
there was no alternative excepting to desert this 
poor sister, which would have been monstrous.” 

‘‘ Do not thank me, senor doctor. Indeed it has 


THE FESTIVAL OF OUR LADYT 


29 


been a pleasure for me to serve your daughter in 
this slight way,” replied the young man as he 
gazed at the sweet face of the maiden with respect- 
ful admiration. “ I must now depart. My duty 
calls me to the bedside of a sick peasant in the next 
hamlet. Adios! ” Lifting his cap, the youth passed 
swiftly down the path. 

Do you know who that young man is ? ” in- 
quired the doctor of the peasants who had accom- 
panied him. 

He is a licentiate of theology, Jerome Ortiz by 
name. He will shortly take priest’s orders.” 

The peasants now assisted the nun to a seat on 
a mule, and one walked on each side of her to sup- 
port her weak frame. Doha Irene followed on 
horseback, and in this way the city of Saragossa 
was soon reached. They halted at the posada, the 
Santa Isabel, where lodgings for the night had 
been previously obtained. Both the doctor and 
his daughter urged the sister to accept their hos- 
pitality, but she steadily refused. 

Tempt me not, kind friends,” she implored. 

I am under a solemn vow to go from Seville to 
the shrine of Our Lady of Saragossa, alone and on 
foot, and not a morsel of food would I have taken, 
if my strength had not failed, until my vow was 
accomplished.” 

Alighting from the mule, she made the sign of 
the cross, and with murmured benedictions she 


30 


FATHER JEROME. 


was soon lost in the crowd of pilgrims who filled 
the streets of the city. 

After leaving Doha Irene, Jerome Ortiz pursued 
his way to the cottage of old Juanita, the charcoal- 
burner’s wife. He read to her a penitential psalm, 
recited a prayer to Our Lady and to the patron 
saint San Jose, then turned his face homewards, 
taking a shorter cut over the mountain-side. He 
had gone but a short distance when a piercing cry 
broke the stillness. 

Help ! Help ! ” 

Hurriedly following the direction from whence 
the sound came, he soon reached the spot where 
a group of students from the university stood 
watching the struggles of a gypsy maiden whom 
one of their number had evidently surprised and 
captured. On seeing Jerome, and fearing that he 
would inform against them, they all turned and 
ran swiftly away. Don Luis de Menoz alone re- 
mained, with his arm around the gypsy’s waist. 

There was no love lost between Don Luis and 
Jerome Ortiz. The latter had just won the prize 
for disputation, which the faculty of the university 
offered yearly, and Don Luis had failed in the con- 
test. As he was of a mean, jealous disposition, 
this in itself was enough to make him hate his rival 
cordially. The sight of Jerome Ortiz at this junc- 
ture in his private affairs was exasperating in the 
extreme. 


THE FESTIVAL OF OUR LADY.' 


31 


The girl uttered loud cries, and tried in vain to 
free herself. , 

‘‘ Help me, kind sir, for the love of God ! ” she 
cried in broken Spanish. 

Unhand the maiden, Don Luis,” said Jerome 
sternly. “ You are not doing a very manly thing 
to treat a maid so roughly.” 

“ I will not let her go until she has paid her 
ransom with those tempting lips,” cried Don Luis. 
“ When she has ceased struggling like a caged 
bird, and given me what she owes me, a kiss, she 
shall go, and not before. She is nothing but a 
gypsy maid anyway.” 

A strong band was laid on the arm of Don Luis. 

“ Let this maid go free or it will be the worse 
for you,” said Jerome with indignant eyes. 

‘‘ Pray mind your own business, Jerome Ortiz, 
and cease meddling in my affairs. I am but keep- 
ing a tryst with this fair young woman. A priest 
surely has no call to meddle in matters of love,” 
he added insolently. 

“ Kind sir, believe him not,” said the girl, burst- 
ing into tears of rage and mortification. 

I may be a priest, Don Luis, but I am also a 
man,” said Jerome. Take that, young sir, and 
learn a lesson in knightly behavior.” Thus speak- 
ing, he dealt the youth a blow which stretched him 
senseless on the ground. 

Now, sehorita, tell me where you are going 


32 


FATHER JEROME. 


and I will escort you. I am sorry that you have 
been so alarmed.” 

The gypsy maid fell upon her knees before 
Jerome Ortiz, and with thanks and prayers she 
kissed his hand. Rising quickly, she led her com- 
panion through the woods for about a mile, to a 
clearing where a roving band of gypsies had re- 
cently encamped. They had located near Sara- 
gossa, thinking it a favorable time to tell the for- 
tunes of the pilgrims and sell their wares. 

In Spain this mysterious Romany race went 
by the name of gitanos, and they were regarded as 
a public nuisance. In spite of civil and military 
power, these horse-thieves, fortune-tellers, sorcer- 
ers, and tinkers roamed over the country, getting 
a good living at the expense of the quiet, law-abid- 
ing citizens of the towns and cities. The gitanas 
made more money even than their husbands, by 
telling fortunes, selling charms and love-philtres, 
and practising the secret arts of what are termed 
the occult sciences. They were admitted without 
reserve into the noblest houses in Spain, and 
haughty sehoras and sehoritas carefully examined 
the antique laces, exquisite bric-a-brac, costly fans, 
and jewelry which they displayed. 

When the gypsy maid reached this clearing in 
the forest, she uttered a loud, piercing bird-call. 
Instantly a man stepped out from one of the tents 
and came swiftly toward her. He was a power- 


THE FESTIVAL OF ''OUT LADY.' 


33 


fully built fellow, with a restless, suspicious eye, 
and the look of a hunted animal. 

“ Carmen, my daughter, whom have you 
brought here ? ” he asked, seizing her hand 
roughly. 

The girl began to talk rapidly in her own dia- 
lect. In a moment the expression of displeasure 
on the gypsy’s face changed to one of pleased sur- 
prise. He turned to the young man and said with 
native dignity, “ Many thanks, most gracious 
sehor, for your timely assistance. I am afraid my 
daughter would have fared hard at the hands of 
those vile Gentiles. Sehor, we are called a corrupt 
and degraded race, but we count one thing of 
priceless value — the honor of our women. The 
gypsy chief cannot find words with which to thank 
the sehor for his kindness. Perhaps the time may 
come when he can render him some assistance. 
Every one knows me hereabouts. The life of 
Benito is at your service.” Saying which, the man 
bowed profoundly, and led his daughter toward 
the tent. Before she passed inside. Carmen turned 
her glowing face to look once more at her de- 
liverer. 

‘‘ Adios, sehor ! ” she said in a sweet voice. 

Quede con Dios ! ” replied the young man 
with a hasty gesture of farewell. 


CHAPTER III. 

JULIAN THE LITTLE. 

Long before sunrise the bells of the Cathedral 
del Pilar summoned the pilgrims to early mass. 
There was a special blessing attached to this morn- 
ing celebration, which most of the pilgrims were 
eager to possess; consequently the church was 
thronged with worshippers even at this early hour. 

The great altar was ablaze with candles. Be- 
sides these, each worshipper carried a lighted taper 
which was deposited before the shrine of Our 
Lady. The light fell upon burnished walls and 
richly stained glass windows. The sculptured 
saints and frescoes of lawgivers and prophets 
seemed to take on the semblance of life. 

From out the solemn stillness, a burst of sound 
like thunder rolled from the deep-mouthed pipes 
of the organ. The altar groaned with the weight 
of the silver church vessels. The choicest brocades 
and jewels were displayed. The archbishop and 
his priests were gorgeous in their gold-embroi- 
dered robes. The Madonna was arrayed in magni- 

34 


JULIAN THE LITTLE. 


35 


ficent garments. Her mantle was spangled with 
precious stones and her crown and bracelets were 
of exquisitely chased gold. 

A solemn high mass was celebrated, with all the 
pomp which befitted so great a festival. The arch- 
bis,hop raised the golden pyx, and all the worship- 
pers fell upon their knees in humble adoration. 
None remained standing but the great prelate of 
the church and his assistants. Clouds of incense 
filled the air. The choir responded with a mighty 
anthem, and the devout almost fancied that they 
caught strains of celestial music mingled with the 
earthly songs of triumph and praise: 

The mass was ended, and the worshippers de- 
posited their offerings before the shrine; they 
adored the sacred relics; then they passed outside 
to drink the water from the famous well of San 
Jose. 

When all was ended. Dr. Sebastian and his 
daughter walked slowly back to the Santa Isabel. 
A wistful look rested on the face of Doha Irene, 
as though the service had somehow failed to meet 
her expectations. 

Do you not believe, father, that our prayers 
and offerings will bring relief to poor Carlos ? ’’ 

“ We will hope so, daughter. At least they can 
do him no harm.^' 

In the Plaza, a Dominican monk was engaged 
in the traffic of indulgences. An eager crowd 


36 


FATHER JEROME. 


pressed around him to hear his words. Dr. Sebas- 
tian paused a moment to listen. 

“ Indulgences,” he said, “ are the noblest of 
God’s gifts. Come, and I will give you letters 
properly sealed, by which even the sins that you 
intend to commit may be pardoned. But more 
than this ! Indulgences avail not only for the 
living, but for the dead. Listen, nobles, merchants, 
wives, youths, maidens ! Do you not hear your 
parents and your other friends who are dead, and 
who cry from the bottom of the abyss, ‘ We are 
suffering horrible torments! A trifling alms would 
deliver us. You can give and you will not I ’ At 
the very instant,” continued the monk, that the 
money rattles into yonder strong-box,” pointing 
to a chest for the reception of his fees, “ the soul 
of your friend escapes from purgatory and flies 
straight to heaven. Therefore for your own sins 
and for those of the dead. Bring! Bring! Bring! ” 
These last words were s,houted, and the noise 
sounded like the bellow of an infuriated bull. A 
profound impression was made upon the listeners. 
Gold coins rattled into the strong-box, and hun- 
dreds of letters of indulgence were filled out. 

Juan Garcia, the silversmith, had watched the 
proceedings with great interest. Here was a long- 
wished-for opportunity to purchase peace and par- 
don. Some sins which he had committed at 
different periods of his life weighed heavily upon 


JCTL/AN- THE LITTLE. 


37 


his conscience. Calling aside one of the monk’s 
assistants, he entered into a brisk conversation 
with him. The result was that he purchased the 
coveted letter of indulgence. In a few moments 
he overtook Dr. Sebastian, with whom he had a 
slight acquaintance. 

“ What do you think of yonder traffic, sehor 
doctor ? ” 

“ I think it a fraud ! ” promptly replied the doc- 
tor. “ The pope’s pardons are simply nets to catch 
silver and gold. Remission of sins and eternal life 
are not to be purchased with money. I do not 
wonder that such men as Luther, Melancthon, 
Zwingli, and a host of others have arisen to com- 
bat such juggling deceptions.” 

Juan’s countenance fell. 

‘‘ Why, sehor doctor, the holy brother said that 
none but heretics and infidels scoffed at in- 
dulgences. You seem to be a good Catholic and 
yet you distrust them. Pray what is a poor, igno- 
rant man to do ?- ” 

“ Use his common sense, if he has any,” said the 
doctor. Juan’s countenance looked still more de- 
jected. Glancing at his companion’s face for the 
first time. Dr. Sebastian exclaimed, “ Is it possible, 
Sehor Garcia, that you have been caught in this 
foolish net ? ” 

‘‘ I am sorry to say that I have, to the extent of 
twenty ducats. I wish now that my money was 


38 


FATHER JEROME. 


back in my pocket, and this parchment was in the 
monk’s strong-box. By the mass ! that fellow 
talked very smoothly, and my sins weighed heav- 
ily on my conscience.” 

Ah, Juan, I thought you were too shrewd to 
be caught with chafif. You have paid a high price 
for your pardon. How is that ? The Dominican 
advertised to sell indulgences for five ducats. You 
have paid dearly for a worthless piece of paper.” 

“ Well, senor doctor, the monk showed me some 
common pardons which he sold cheaply. But 
when I told him what sins weighed heavily on my 
soul, he said that nothing short of twenty ducats 
would make the matter right, and I tell you I was 
glad to purchase peace at that price. Can you read 
me what the paper says ? I was never much of a 
scholar and the writing is not overplain.” 

Dr. Sebastian read aloud as follows: May our 
Lord Jesus Christ pity thee, Juan Garcia, and ab- 
solve thee by the merits of his most holy passion. 
And I, in virtue of the apostolical power that has 
been confided in me, absolve thee from all judg- 
ments and penalties which thou mayest have in- 
curred; moreover, from all excesses, sins, and 
crimes that thou mayst have committed, however 
great and enormous they may be; I remit the 
penalties that thou shouldst have endured in pur- 
gatory. I restore thee anew to participation in the 
sacraments of the church. I incorporate thee 


JULIAN THE LITTLE. 


39 


afresh in the communion of saints, and re-establish 
thee in the purity and innocence which thou hadst 
at thy baptism. And if thou shouldst not die for 
long years, this grace will remain unaltered until 
thy last hour shall arrive. 

In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy 
Ghost. Amen. 

Fray Augustino, Commissary, has signed this 
with his own hand.” 

There! ” cried Juan in triumph, '' are not those 
brave words ? Pardon for past and present 
offences, and a free permit to heaven when I die. 
I am close to sixty years of age, and cannot expect 
to live always. It is well worth twenty ducats to 
have such assurances from the pope himself. Do 
you not say so ? ” he added, scanning the doctoFs 
face with pitiful eagerness. 

“ Naught will avail thee, my man, but faith and 
repentance; then say your prayers, pay your dues, 
and lead an honest life. These things will do more 
for your salvation than your bit of paper, Fm 
thinking.” 

Juan looked disappointed and seemed about to 
tear the letter of indulgence in pieces, but on sec- 
ond thoughts he folded it and placed it once more 
in his breast-pocket. If it does me no good, it 
certainly cannot do me any harm,” he said. ‘‘ But 
I wish my faith in its power had not been shaken.” 

Just then a sweet baritone voice was heard sing- 


40 


FATHER JEROME. 


ing a hymn. A bend in the road concealed the 
singer from their view, but the words floated to 
their ears. 

“ Vain folly of this darkened age, 

This wandering over earth, 

To find the peace by some dark sin 
Banished our household hearth. 

“ O pilgrim, vain each toilsome step : 

Vain every weary day ! 

There is no charm in soil or shrine. 

To wash the guilt away.” 

'Fhe song suddenly ceased. Loud voices Were 
raised at first in a kind of good-natured banter. 
Then the tones changed to those of anger, and loud 
threats were heard. Dr. Sebastian had not out- 
grown a boy’s fondness for a fray of any sort or 
description. 

There is trouble over yonder,” he remarked to 
his companions. Senor Garcia, if you will re- 
main with my daughter one moment, I will step 
back and see if I can be of any assistance.” 

Drawing a new Toledo blade from its scabbard, 
the doctor hastened to the scene of action. Several 
peasants of Moorish extraction were attacking a 
dwarf. The little muleteer was bravely defending 
his saddle-bags, which two sleek, gayly caparisoned 
mules were carrying. 

No, I will not show you my wares,” the little 
man was saying. '' You do not wish to buy of me. 


JULIA JV THE LITTLE. 


41 


Why should I waste my time when I have prom- 
ised to deliver my goods to a merchant in Seville 
on a certain day ? Begone, like good fellows, and 
let an unfortunate muleteer alone.’’ 

His words made no impression upon the rough 
peasants, and one of them had his hand on the 
saddle-bags, when Dr. Sebastian cried in a loud 
voice, Hands off, my fine fellow ! Any one of 
you who touches this man’s goods shall feel a 
thrust from my sword.” The peasants were awed 
at the sudden appearance of one so much their 
superior, and they immediately slunk away. 

The little muleteer came forward and bowed 
profoundly. 

My most grateful thanks, gracious sehor, for 
your help,” he said in a dialect which revealed his 
Castilian origin. Although a dwarf, his appear- 
ance was such as to command respect. He had a 
homely but intelligent face, and his expression was 
vivacious. 

What is your name ? ” inquired Dr. Sebastian. 
‘‘ Julian Hernandez, but men call me oftener 
Julian el Chico, because I am little, as you see, 
senor.” 

Have you travelled far ? ” 

“ I stopped last at Cervera,” said the muleteer 
evasively. I am on my way to Seville, to deliver 
my goods to a merchant there, Juan de Espaya by 
name. I am seeking a good inn in which to get a 


42 


FATHER JEROME. 


meal for myself and for my faithful companions,” 
pointing to the heavily laden mules which were 
quietly grazing by the roadside. 

“ Then come with me to the Santa Isabel,” said 
the doctor. “ It is only a short distance from 
here.” 

The little party soon reached the hospitable inn. 
The muleteer insisted on caring for his mules him- 
self. No one has ever touched them but me,” 
he said by way of apology. 

There was quite a stir in the pleasant hostery. 
Not only was there an unsual number of guests, 
but the presence of several gypsies added consider- 
ably to the interest. Benito, the gypsy chief, was 
pushing a horse trade with great energy and 
shrewdness. His wife, a gaudily attired middle- 
aged gitana, was plying her trade of fortune-tell- 
ing. Assisting her was her beautiful daughter 
Carmen. 

When the genial landlord, Antonio, found a 
leisure moment he took a mandolin from the wall 
and began strumming an accompaniment. 

Come, gypsy maid,” he said, '' show the Span- 
ish ladies how to dance.” 

Nothing loath to exhibit her lissom figure to 
the best advantage. Carmen stepped to the end of 
the room and adjusted her castanets. Then she 
caught the hem of her scarlet dress with one hand, 
and raised the other high over her head. Slowly 


JULIAN THE LITTLE. 


43 


she began to lilt in solemn, measured tread. As 
the music quickened, the motions of her graceful 
figure were accelerated. Soon the gypsy was sway- 
ing, bending, turning, in all the wonderful intrica- 
cies of the Spanish tarantella. The face of the girl 
glowed with excitement. Her eyes shone like 
stars, and no one present but felt a kind of fascina- 
tion as the slender figure swept madly on to the 
quick measure of the mandolin. The climax in the 
dance approached. The music grew quicker and 
quicker. The supple pirouetting figure moved so 
swiftly that the eye could hardly follow the move- 
ments. Suddenly the music changed to a slow, 
wild cadenza, a passionate appealing melody, and 
the motions of the beautiful gypsy through the 
stately minuet were none the less irresistible. 

A burst of applause greeted the performance. 

‘‘ Wonderful ! Exquisite ! ’’ was heard on all 
sides. The mother made haste to pass her box 
around, and many a gold coin was dropped therein 
by admiring spectators. 

Dr. Sebastian did not approve of the dancing. 
That beautiful swaying figure somehow looked 
evil. Instinctively his eyes sought his daughter’s 
face. When he saw her absorbed fascinated gaze, 
he rose quietly and led her from the room. 

“ Why do we go, father ? ” she inquired. “ It 
was so bewitching ! It made me dream of palaces 
and gardens and Moorish knights and ladies.” 


44 


FATHER JEROME. 


“ I do not like to have the pure eyes of my little 
daughter rest on such scenes,” answered her 
father. “ Insensibly they poison the mind and 
heart. I think we can find some better way to 
amuse ourselves, the short time that we remain 
here.” 

Oh, father, call in that dwarf, and bid him sing 
for us.” 

That is a good idea, daughter. I would not 
be surprised if we should find him quite entertain- 
ing. I will order some wine and we will treat the 
little man as if he were a prince.” 

The muleteer was surprised at the unexpected 
honor, but he gladly complied with Dr. Sebastian’s 
request. Both the doctor and his daughter were 
impressed with the easy courtly manner and re- 
spectful yet dignified address of the man. He 
seemed to be fitted, by nature and acquirement, 
to fill a higher station than that of the Spanish 
arriero. 

“You ai*e something of a traveller, I imagine,” 
said the doctor. “ Tell us about the places you 
have visited.” 

“ In good sooth I am a traveller, sehor, but two 
or three beaten paths are about the extent of my 
wanderings. I know the way well from Paris 
across the Pyrenees; also over the Alps to Geneva. 
I have once or twice been into the Netherlands.” 

“ Tell us, please,” interrupted Doha Irene, 


JULIAN THE LITTLE. 4j 

where you learned that beautiful song which we 
heard you singing this morning.” 

“ What song was it, sehorita ? I sing so many 
that I do not remember which one you mean.” 
‘‘It was that one which says: 

“There is no charm in soil or shrine 
To wash the guilt away.’ 


The face of the muleteer lighted up with a bright 
smile which made his homely countenance for the 
time being attractive. 

“ I will gladly tell you the history of those words, 
senorita, for they brought me the most precious 
possession of my life. 

“ A number of years ago I made a trip into 
Switzerland, and happened in the vicinity of Ein- 
iiedeln at the time when the yearly pilgrimage to 
that famous monastery was made. Over the doors 
of the convent, in golden letters, were some words 
in Latin. I asked a pilgrim the meaning of the 
words. He said they meant, ‘ Here is full absolu- 
tion from the guilt and punishment of all sins.’ 
‘ That is good news,’ I said. ‘ I am glad I came 
here. I will go in and hear what the preacher has 
to say about the matter.’ When I entered the 
chapel, a young man was in the pulpit. He 
preached from a part of the Apostles’ Creed which 
says, ‘ I believe in the forgiveness of sins.’ He 
went on to declare that Christ is our only salva- 


46 


JTA THER JEROME, 


tion. He boldly proclaimed to all that remission 
of sins and everlasting life are not to be sought of 
the Virgin, but of Christ; that absolution, pilgrim- 
ages, vows, and presents made to the saints have 
no value; that God’s grace and help are every- 
where within reach; that not Mary, but Christ, is 
our only salvation. Then he paused and sang those 
words which you heard me sing: 

“ ‘ There is no charm in soil or shrine 
To wash the guilt away.’ 

The pilgrims heard this good word with joy. 
^ People need no longer go to Einsiedeln,’ they 
said, ‘ for the forgiveness of sins. God gives it to 
all those who sincerely ask for it, through Christ, 
and without money.’ ” 

The dwarf leaned forward and looked earnestly 
and longingly into the faces of his listeners. 

“ Sehor, sehorita, there is no need for pilgrims 
to attend the feast of Our Lady at Saragossa for 
the forgiveness of sins. Christ alone saves, and 
saves freely. Christ is everywhere. ‘ The Son of 
Man hath power on earth to forgive sins.’ Ah, 
sehor, do you know the precious words of Christ ? 
Are you hungry ? Christ says, ' I am the Bread of 
Life.’ Are you thirsty ? Christ says, ‘ Unto him 
who is athirst will I give of the fountain of .he 
water of life freely.’ Are you tired ? Christ says, 
‘ Come unto me and I will give you rest.’ Are you 


JULIAN THE LITTLE. 


47 


lost ? Christ says, ‘ I am the Way, the Truth, and 
the Life/ 

Dr. Sebastian looked at this wonderful muleteer 
in astonishment. 

Most men of his class were ignorant, profane, 
and vicious. Here was one who, though not edu- 
cated, had a fund of wisdom, an easy, self-assured 
deportment, which could only come through asso- 
ciation with refined and intellectual people. 

Man, your learning amazes me ! ” he said at 
length. I think you must be quoting from the 
Holy Scriptures. Can you read Latin ? ’’ 

“ No, senor.’’ 

Then how came you to gain such a knowledge 
of the Scriptures as you seem to possess ? ” 

Julian looked thoughtful. Then raising his clear 
eyes to the doctor’s face, he said, '' Senor, I will tell 
you a secret if you will give me your word of honor 
that you will not betray me.” 

“ Your wish is granted. If you prefer, I will 
swear secrecy on the crucifix.” 

“ Your word is sufficient, senor. The senorita 
has the face of an angel. She surely would not 
betray the little dwarf to his death.” 

Never ! ” cried Dona Irene. 

Then I will tell you the simple truth. I have 
dared to read the words of the blessed Lord Jesus 
in the Castilian language. Senor, senorita, my life 
is in your hands.” 


CHAPTER IV. 


A FAITHFUL WITNESS. 

Are you then a heretic ? ” inquired Dr. Sebas- 
tian. 

Doha Irene drew herself away from the dwarf 
with a look of horror in her eyes. 

Fear not, sehorita ! ” replied Julian with a 
merry laugh. “ I do not wear horns or carry a 
cloven foot. A heretic did you say, sehor ? That 
depends altogether on what you mean by that 
word. I hold the same opinions as the great arch- 
bishop of Seville, the noble Fray Constantino 
Fuente.” 

“ He is not a heretic,” answered the doctor, ‘‘ al- 
though I have heard that his writings have been 
carefully examined by the Holy Tribunal. Nothing 
was found, however, but what was perfectly ortho- 
dox.” 

You are right, senor. Fray Constantino nar- 
rowly escaped being branded as a heretic, and even 
now his words are watched. But after all, we do 
not care so much for his words, even though the 
greatest lords and ladies of Spain flock every week 

48 


A FAITHFUL WITNESS. 


49 


to the cathedral when it is known that he will 
officiate at, mass. What we want most of all is to 
know God’s words, and these are to be found only 
in the Holy Scriptures.” 

The Scriptures,” replied the doctor, “ are good 
and useful when in the hands of scholars who know 
how to rightly interpret them. From their misin- 
terpretation, all sorts of heresies have arisen. 
Hence it is of the utmost importance that they be 
kept from the common people, or reverence for 
them would soon be destroyed. It sometimes 
seems as though Satan himself stirred up the hearts 
of the people and made them clamor for the Scrip- 
tures.” 

Pardon me, sehor, for presuming to differ from 
you. It is not the devil which stirs the hearts of 
the people, but God’s Spirit. When men and 
women are hungry, can you blame them for crying 
out for bread ? ” 

But heretics put their own construction upon 
sacred things. The inquisitors do well to exercise 
the greatest caution in the matter.” 

Sehor, you are a scholar. It would be very 
easy for you to find out for yourself whether the 
charges made by the inquisitors areirue. For my- 
self, I have read the words of Christ in my own 
language, and nothing can ever deprive me of the 
joy and peace which they afford me. I would that 
the sehor and the sehorita knew the same joy.” 


50 


FATHER JEROME. 


Father, can we not read the words of Christ 
together ? ” said Doha Irene eagerly. ^ 

“ Perhaps so,” replied Dr. Sebastian. “ If I could 
obtain a copy of the Scriptures without exciting 
suspicion, I would read it. Can you procure me 
a copy, Julian ? ” 

“ Sehor, the saddle-bags which my mules carry 
are full of copies of the New Testament, which I 
am bringing to Seville for distribution. I have a 
few small wares in the top of the bags, which I 
exhibit when sorely pressed. If you will both ex- 
cuse me one moment, I will provide each of you 
with a copy.” 

The muleteer left the room, but returned directly. 

“ This translation,” he said, “ is by Dr. Juan 
Perez. I have sometimes another translation by 
Dr. Francisco Enzinas, and both translations are 
printed abroad.” Handing the doctor and his 
daughter each a copy, he said earnestly, ‘‘ May the 
Lord guide you into all truth.” 

Do you know, my man, that you are playing 
a very dangerous game ? ” 

I know all, sehor.” 

“ Do you realize that by offering this book to 
me you lay yourself liable to all the horrors of the 
Inquisition ? ” 

“ I have counted the cost, sehor, and I am not 
afraid.” The dwarf returned the doctor’s gaze with 
undaunted eyes. 


A FAITHFUL WITNESS. 


51 


You are a brave man, Julian Hernandez. Your 
life is safe in our hands, but pray be cautious and 
do not exhibit your Avares to every one who talks 
smoothly.” 

I do not mean to be rash, or to act unadvisedly, 
but I shall testify for my Master whenever a good 
opportunity presents itself. I know that sooner or 
later I shall be discovered and punished. But so 
long as my Lord needs me, he will take care of 
me. When my work is done I shall be only too 
glad to be called home.” 

“ Julian, why do you throw away your life need- 
lessly ? It is the dearest possession a man has.” 

“ Nay, sehor, not half so dear to me as the love 
I bear to Christ my Lord. He died that I might 
be forgiven and saved from death. Shall I not be 
willing to do something for his sake, who endured 
so much for me ? Senor, pardon me if I ask you 
to pray that God’s Spirit may lead you aright. I 
am anxious that your soul and that of your sweet 
daughter may be saved. Have I not earned the 
right to entreat you to read carefully the precious 
words of Christ, when it is at the risk of my life 
that I have brought his words to you ? Therefore 
pardon me for my boldness, and do not be .offended 
at my plain speech.” 

Dr. Sebastian’s eyes filled with tears, and, touched 
by the heroism of the little muleteer, he reached 
forward and grasped his hand. 


52 


FATHER JEROME. 


“ I admire your courage, Julian, and appreciate 
what you are doing for me. May Our Lady and 
the saints preserve you from harm ! Take a glass 
of wine with us before you go.’' He poured the 
fragrant beverage into three cups, one of which he 
handed to the dwarf. 

“ Thanks, noble sehor, for this honor. May the 
Lord himself give you and the sehorita the riches 
of his grace ! ” Then touching the wine with his 
lips, he placed the cup upon the table. With a 
profound bow and an Adios, senor ! adios, seho- 
rita ! ” he left the room. 

Long after Doha Irene was asleep, her father sat 
reading, by the dim light of a candle, from the book 
v/hich had come into his possession. His heart was 
prepared for the seed of divine truth. For many 
years he had rebelled secretly against the penances, 
pilgrimages, and other ceremonies, the strict ob- 
servance of which the church had imposed upon her 
followers. The slothful, sensual lives of many of 
the monks and high church officials had disgusted 
him. His soul was starving on the husks with which 
it had been fed. He truly longed for the bread of 
life. Much that he now read for the first time was 
unintelligible to him, but there was one passage 
which shed a ray of sunlight into his darkened 
soul: For God so loved the world that he gave 

his only-begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in 
him should not perish but have everlasting life.” 


A FAITHFUL WITNESS. 


53 


He closed the book and retired for the night. It 
seemed to him as if the simple reading of the words 
had lifted a weight from his heart, and he felt that 
the dawn of a new life was near. 

The next morning he inquired diligently of Juan 
Garcia for the little muleteer. 

“ He was off long before sunrise, sehor doctor,’’ 
was the reply. “ A smarter man for his size I have 
never seen. He told me some good words about 
Christ, and how he forgives sins without money. 
He says there is no need for the Lady Mother to 
intercede for us; because the Son is not only will- 
ing but anxious to forgive and save us. And what 
do you suppose I have done, senor doctor ? I took 
that letter of indulgence and tore it into strips. If 
it be true that Christ is willing to forgive me, I have 
no need of Fray Augustino’s letter.” 

“ You have done well, Juan,” replied Dr. Sebas- 
tian; but I am very sorry not to have seen Julian 
Hernandez once more.” 

While the doctor was superintending the prepa- 
rations for departure, the gypsy’s wife and daugh- 
ter came to Doha Irene. 

‘‘ Let me tell your fortune, beautiful sehorita,” 
said the old gitana. 

Doha Irene stretched out her small white hand. 

The gypsy studied its lines for a few moments, 
and then shook her head. “ Gracious sehorita,” 
she said at length, I see thick darkness and hear 


54 


FATITEK JEROME. 


strange, awful cries and groans. But the saints be 
praised ! a bright star illumines the gloom. Al- 
though there are troublous times before you, the 
sun shines at last, and all is peace and happiness. 
The prince comes in good time, and bears his lady- 
love to fairer climes.” 

Doha Irene laughed a gay, careless laugh. 

The gypsy maid eyed the beautiful Spaniard with 
interested eyes. As Doha Irene became aware of 
this intent gaze, a sudden impulse came to her. 
She took the cluster of roses from her belt and 
handed them to this daughter of the forest with a 
sweet smile. 

Carmen looked pleased, and bending down she 
kissed the hand which had bestowed the favor. 

The gypsy never forgets a kindness, gracious 
sehorita,” she said in broken Spanish. 

During the long wearisome journey home. Dr. 
Sebastian was unusually thoughtful. His daughter 
glanced into his face often, and was struck with the 
look of calm contentment, so different from the 
sad, unsatisfied expression which it had worn for 
many months. 

“ Daughter,” he said, “ I think we have a better 
gift to carry poor Carlos than health. A healed 
soul is of infinitely more value than a healed body.” 


CHAPTER V. 


THE LETTER. 

To the Reverend Ignatius Loyola, General of the 
Company of Jesus, at Rome. 

‘‘ Esteemed and Illustrious Father in God: 
I write this letter from the university of Sara- 
gossa, to inform you that one of the commissions 
laid upon me by your reverence has been com- 
pleted. The youth Jerome Ortiz, who was placed 
under my care, has now been consecrated as a 
priest, and is stationed at our House in Valladolid^ 
under Father Padilla. 

“ Jerome was under the canonical age, and prop- 
erly should not have taken priest^s orders for an- 
other year. There were urgent reasons, however, 
which led me to hasten this step. Lutheran heresy 
has been discovered in several parts of the Spanish 
kingdom. Before this youth had any opportunity 
of becoming contaminated with this evil, I made 
sure that he was bound to our Holy Church by the 
most sacred oaths of fealty. 

“ Perhaps it would be well to refresh your mem- 
ory in regard to this youth’s antecedents. The 
father of Jerome Ortiz was the Don Manuel Valero, 

55 


56 


father JEROME. 


brother of that noted apostate Rodrigo Valero, 
who was excommunicated from the church, and 
died under her ban. Don Manuel Valero was de- 
nounced on good authority as sharing his brother’s 
opinions, and he mysteriously disappeared. Per- 
haps you may know what became of him. Perhaps 
it would not be a difficult matter for me to guess. 
Be this as it may, the nobleman started for Madrid 
on business, and never returned. Some said he was 
waylaid by brigands, and murdered; others claimed 
that he had committed suicide rather than share the 
ignominy of his brother’s fate. The son, then a 
child three years old, was taken from his mother, 
in order that he might be saved for the church. 
She died a year afterward, presumably a heretic. 

“ The remaining relatives were a half-brother 
and a half-sister named de Menoz, and these two 
inherited the princely fortune of the Valeros. The 
sister, a most devout woman, gave her portion 
shortly to the dhurch, and entered the convent of 
St. Catherine. 

Count Pedro de Menoz desired that the boy 
should be taken by the church, and educated for 
the priesthood. He has paid liberally for the boy’s 
education, and has annually given generous dona- 
tions to the church. 

Jerome was conveyed to a cloister in the north 
of Spain, and there he remained until his uncle de- 
cided to place him in a Jesuit college. Five years 


THE LETTER. 


57 


ago he was placed under my tuition, and has been 
studying at the university of Saragossa. He is a 
youth of rare promise, with a retentive memory 
and oratorical gifts of a high order. He has just 
won the annual prize for debate. He is unques- 
tionably the leading scholar in the university. He 
is possessed of noble traits of character and a sensi- 
tive conscience. 

‘‘ He knows nothing about his parentage. Don 
Pedro de Menoz he believes to be simply his rich 
benefactor, who, out of pity, took him from pov- 
erty and educated him. His history is a secret 
known only to a few. He does not dream that we 
are making him a priest of Rome in order to wash 
the taint of heresy from the name of Valero. 

‘‘ I have had him carefully trained in the methods, 
approved by our Order. He is an ambitious youth, 
and I have fostered this trait. To excel has ever 
been his motto. I have known him to steal hours 
from his sleep in order to do this, and he has suc- 
ceeded admirably. I have aimed to develop in him 
the receptive and reproductive faculties of the 
mind. He has stored his brain with theology and 
philosophy. He has mastered the Latin language, 
is skilful in debate, and can recite selections from 
all the leading poets, ancient and modern. Origi- 
nality or independent thought and speech we have 
carefully suppressed. I want him to be like a mirror 
which faithfully reflects the face looking therein. 
He needs no judgment or will save those of his 


SS 


Father Jerome. 


Superior, hence I have not sought to develop them. 
His spiritual life has kept pace with the intellectual. 
I have a book wherein all his confessions are duly 
recorded. He reports to me weekly, and he seems 
thoroughly well grounded in our most holy faith. 

“ I had an interview with him recently. He was 
very anxious to enter the lists as a missionarv, but 
I told him we had other plans for his future, and 
that he must remain quietly in our House at Valla- 
dolid for the present. 

“ There is one thing about Father Jerome 
which perplexes me: occasionally a look comes 
into his face which I do not understand. When I 
refused his request to become a missionary, a look 
of passionate, restrained longing came into his eyes, 
and there were lines of suffering about his mouth. 
But when I said, ‘ Is my decision satisfactory to 
you ? ’ he answered without hesitation, ‘ Certainly, 
your reverence.’ 

“ His repose of manner comes largely from the 
habit of self-control which our discipline requires. 
I have written Father Padilla to watch the young 
priest carefully, and to report his progress to me 
monthly. I leave here for Portugal in a few days. 

Committing you to the care of Jesus and his 
blessed Mother, 

“ I have the honor of remaining. 

Your unworthy servant, 

“ Francis Borgia.” 


CHAPTER VI. 


THE SECRET MEETING. 

** Just look here, Carlos,’’ said a cheery young 
voice to Dr. Sebastian’s invalid son. “ I have with 
mine own hands plucked the largest and fairest 
grapes which my uncle’s vines bore. I hope they 
will refresh you. Poor fellow 1 You look worn 
out with your suffering.” 

The speaker was Don Alfonso de Menillo, the 
nephew of the Count de Menillo, who was a promi- 
nent member of the city council and likewise an 
inquisitor. 

Two years ago, when the doctor’s son was 
eighteen, there was not a stronger or more athletic 
young man in Valladolid. He was fond of all kinds 
of outdoor sports, and was especially adept in the 
use of the sword and lance. At this period in the 
history of Spain, the national sport — the bull-fight 
— was participated in by Caballeros of high rank, 
and many of the matadors, instead of being, as now, 
from the lowest ranks of society, were scions of 
the noblest houses. Don Carlos had entered the 
Plaza de Toros, and had already distinguished him- 
self by his courage and bravery. He tempted his 

59 


6o 


FATHER JEROME. 


fate once too often. In a contest with a powerful 
Castilian bull, he was thrown from his horse and 
gored by the maddened brute. He was carried 
from the arena as one dead, but he came slowly 
back to life to find himself a cripple. 

Dr. Christobal Losada, from Seville, an intimate 
friend of Dr. Sebastian, attended the young man, 
but he considered the case hopeless. As he was 
one of the leading physicians in Spain, his opinion 
was deemed final. Dr. Losada, unlike his other 
professional brethren, dared to use his own judg- 
ment, and he had even adopted habits of independ- 
ent research very unusual in a Spaniard. He was 
comparatively free from prejudice, and he quite 
often hazarded remedies which were not altogether 
cosas de Espaha ” (things of Spain). This, in 
part, accounted for his success. 

From the moment that this eminent physician 
gave his verdict, Don Carlos sank into a morose, 
irritable invalid, a torment to himself and a grief 
to those who loved him devotedly. 

The room in which he lay was the pleasantest 
one in the house. The walls were hung with choice 
pictures by Titian. The couch was luxuriously 
furnished. A fireplace had been added to the room 
at considerable expense. A table covered with 
books and writing materials was placed within easy 
reach of the invalid. From the windows, two of 
which faced the south, a fine view delighted the 


THE SECRET MEETING, 


6i 


eye. Beyond the narrow court with its fountain 
were beautiful vegas, bright with many-hued flow- 
ers, the flashing river, and the amphitheatre of 
snowy-crested sierras in the background. 

“ Thanks, my Alfonso ! ” said Don Carlos with 
a brighter look on his face. “ It is indeed kind of 
you to visit such a melancholy fellow as myself. 
Sit down and tell me the news.” 

Ursula, the housekeeper, seeing that her charge 
no longer required her presence, left the room. 

“ When did you return from the university ? ” 

“ Last night. And what do you think, Carlos ? 
My most intimate friend, Jerome Ortiz, has been 
stationed at the House of the Jesuits; so I shall be 
able to see him occasionally. He is a noble fellow. 
I know you would admire him. How should you 
like to have me bring him to see you some day ? ” 
Never ! ” cried Carlos, a spot of red showing 
on either su^iken cheek. ‘‘ Never with my knowl- 
edge shall another priest visit me. Holy Mother ! 
how they have pestered me with their pious cant ! 
Do not bring your friend here if he is a priest.” 

'' Very well. It shall be as you wish,” replied 
Alfonso in a disappointed voice. ‘‘ But I know you 
would like Jerome. He saved my life last term, 
when I was swimming beyond my depth. I feel 
that I owe him more than I can repay.” 

“ Let us drop Jerome now, if you please, Al- 
fonso. Do tell me the news.’' 


62 


FATHER JEROME. 


As for news, Carlos, of course there is but one 
thing talked of on the streets, and that is King 
Philip’s great victory at St. Quentin. Although it 
happened some time ago, people are not tired of 
rehearsing it. How I wish I had been there. The 
Constable of France, Montmorency, the Marshal 
de St. Andre, and the Admiral Coligny were the 
leaders on the enemy’s side. The Spanish and 
Flemish troops were under the command of the 
Duke of Savoy. They say this signal victory was 
due to the splendid action of a Flemish nobleman. 
Count Egmont, who was at the head of the King’s 
cavalry. The very crown and flower of the chivalry 
of France were engaged in the battle, and they 
were completely subdued. I tell you, Carlos, that 
if this war continues much longer, I shall enlist and 
fight under King Philip’s banner.” 

Like other youths of his time, Alfonso was loyal 
to his sovereign, without in the least comprehend- 
ing what a monster Philip the Second was, a mon- 
ster fit to be ranked with Nero the infamous. He 
not only sacked but burned the noble city of St. 
Quentin. At his order, for three days every human 
being met by the Spaniards was butchered. Many 
of the women were outraged, were slashed in the 
faces with knives, or had arms or hands amputated, 
and naked and maimed were driven into the blazing 
streets of the city to perish. 

The pious king, however, did not forget his duty 


THE SECRET MEETING, 


63 


to the saints ! He caused the body of St. Quentin 
to be removed from the cathedral, and had it con- 
veyed to the royal tent, where masses were said 
before the coffin daily. While the bones of the dead 
saint were sheltered by the king, outside, dogs 
were gnawing the dead bodies of the slain French- 
men, and soldiers were driving into exile the deso- 
late and maimed women. 

When Alfonso paused in his praises of King 
Philip, to take breath, his eye lighted on his com- 
panion’s face. Seeing the look of bitterness which 
rested there, he said penitently, “ Forgive me, 
Carlos, I forgot that your ambition was to be a 
soldier.” 

Never mind, Alfonso ! One drop more of gall 
into my cup makes but little difference. I ought 
by this time to have become used to being laid on 
the shelf.” 

“ I shall have to go now, old fellow. My cousin, 
Doha Consuelo, charged me to do an errand for her 
before my return, and I am exceedingly anxious to 
find favor in her beautiful eyes. When do you ex- 
pect your father and sister ? ” 

''To-night, if nothing unforeseen happens to 
prevent. The last three days have seemed like so 
many years. Mother Ursula was kind, but clumsy. 
No one attends to my wants like Irene.” 

" Poor fellow, I hope you will not be disap- 
pointed. I shall come again soon. Adios.” 


64 


FATHER JEROME, 


The sun was slowly sinking behind the distant 
hills. The sky glowed like a sea of molten gold. 
Far to the eastward, the massive pile of San Chris- 
tobal reflected its gorgeous hues in a soft rosy 
blush, which mantled its snow-streaked summit. 
The valleys already lay in cool shadows, when Dr. 
Sebastian and his daughter rode up to their own 
door. 

The face of the youthful Carlos was radiant with 
joy as he saw the travellers. An affectionate greet- 
ing from them compensated for the lonely hours 
he had endured, and a look of satisfaction settled 
over his countenance as Irene performed many 
loving offices for his comfort. 

“ And has Our Lady of Saragossa sent me the 
gift of health, father ? ” he said with a cynical smile, 
sad to see on any face. 

My son,’^ said his father, I have brought you 
the gift of God, which is eternal life through Jesus 
Christ our Lord. To-morrow I will tell you the 
meaning of these words.” 

It was in vain, however, that the doctor and 
Irene tried to share the good news which they had 
heard with the invalid. 

When God gives me health,” he cried in bitter- 
ness of spirit, then I will believe in his goodness 
and love.” 

A month later. Dr. Losada made his friend a 
brief visit. He came partly to see his patient, and 


THE SECRET MEETING. 65 

partly to meet Don Carlos de Seso, who was to 
come to Valladolid about this time. 

“ How fares it with your son ? ” he inquired of 
Dr. Sebastian. 

“ Carlos is doing wretchedly. He does nothing 
but kick against the pricks, from morning till night. 
His bodily strength seems to wane from month to 
month.’’ 

Poor fellow ! ” replied Dr. Losada. Until he 
stops this useless fretting we can do but little for 
him.” 

“ If he could only know the One who says, 
‘ Come unto me, and ye shall find rest unto your 
souls,’ I think he would soon gain a degree of bod- 
ily vigor. As it is, despair has seized hold of him.” 

Dr. Losada looked earnestly at his companion. 
Then he said, inquiringly: 

You have been reading the Scriptures, and not 
the Vulgate which the church recommends ? ” 

“ I can trust you, Losada,” said his friend. I 
admit that I have been reading the past month a 
copy of the Scriptures in the Castilian language. 
I have found the pearl of great price.” 

Your precious treasure is likewise mine,” said 
Dr. Losada. 

The two men grasped each other’s hands, and 
their friendship was cemented by ties which death 
itself could not break. After conversing with his 
friend and testing his sincerity by a few questions, 


66 


FATHER JEROME. 


Dr. Losada then revealed the fact that there was in 
Valladolid, as well as in Seville, a little Protestant 
community, holding Lutheran services regularly 
every week. He, himself, was the pastor of the in- 
fant church in Seville, while in Valladolid the pas- 
tors were Fray Augustino Cazalla and Fray Do- 
mingo Rojas. The meetings in the capital were 
held at the house of the former. 

“To tell you the exact truth, Sebastian, there 
is a meeting of Lutherans to-night, at which Don 
Carlos de Seso will speak. Would you not like to 
accompany me, and I will introduce you to the 
brethren.” 

Dr. Sebastian gladly consented to go, although 
he fully realized the danger which attended the act. 

After nightfall they repaired to the house of Fray 
Cazalla. Dr. Sebastian was warmly welcomed by 
the brethren. He was greatly surprised at the char- 
acter of the little assembly. He had imagined that 
by far the larger part of the converts were from 
the poorer class. What was his surprise to find the 
purest of “ sangre azul ” (blue blood) represented 
here. There was Don Carlos de Seso, an Ital- 
ian nobleman, and his wife, Isabella de Castilla, 
princess of the royal houses of Leon and Castile; 
also Antonio de Herezuelo, a famous advocate, and 
his beautiful young wife, Leanor; Don Christobal 
de Padilla, a knight; Doha Ana Rojas, and Doha 
Beatriz Cazalla, and many others, both men and 


THE SECRET MEETING. 


67 


women of rank. Quite a number of Beatas, or holy 
women not bound by conventual rules, were there, 
as well as several local priests. There was also a 
sprinkling of servants and tradespeople in the au- 
dience. Juan Garcia was among the number. The 
silversmith had moved to Valladolid, having re- 
ceived quite an important contract from the Regent 
Joanna, which required his presence in this city. 

Dr. Sebastian was much impressed with the noble 
bearing of Don Carlos de Seso. As Dr. Losada 
said, He seemed a combination of the Cid and St. 
Paul.’’ He brought the good news that the re- 
formed doctrines were spreading rapidly in the 
north of Spain. At his house, which was the cen- 
tre for all Protestants in his vicinity, there were 
plenty of books w'hich were distributed freely, such 
as Bibles, Testaments, and the writings of Luther, 
Calvin, and Melancthon, translated into Castilian. 
The chief officer in the custom-house at Logrono 
was himself a Protestant, and aided materially in 
the work of circulating these proscribed books. 

After reading of the Scriptures and prayer, which 
were conducted by Don Carlos, a commotion was 
heard in the next room. Dona Beatriz Cazalla left 
the room, but returned a moment later, accom- 
panied by a little muleteer who was staggering be- 
neath the weight of a pack larger than himself. 

Julianillo ! Julianillo ! ” were the delighted 
cries heard on all sides. They all pressed around 


68 


FATHER JEROME, 


the dwarf, and shook his hand warmly. His face 
lighted up when he saw Dr. Sebastian. 

‘‘ God be thanked, senor,” he said. “ I need not 
ask you if you have received the good news. Your 
presence here tells me that.” 

The noblemen assisted the dwarf to unload his 
pack. Fray Cazalla called him “ brother,” and the 
Princess Isabella declared that the little muleteer 
was more of a hero than the Cid Campeador, for he 
fought enemies greater than himself, and single- 
handed. 

Julian was almost overcome by these proofs of 
esteem, but he replied with modest dignity. 

Do not praise me overmuch, my brethren. I 
am far from being courageous. Many a time when 
I have been in hiding I have held my breath for 
fear of the custom-house officers. So far, my es- 
cape from detection has been miraculous. I am 
such an inoflensive-looking little fellow that the 
officers regard me with compassion, and have even 
offered to help me along with my pack.” 

The bundle was now uncorded and opened, and 
besides Bibles and Testaments, there were writings 
of Luther which had just been translated into the 
Castilian language. Any one of these books or 
pamphlets, found in a person’s possession, would 
have been sufficient to send him to the prisons of the 
Inquisition, nay, even to the Quemadero or Burn- 
ing-Place. 


THE SECRET MEETING. 


69 


After the meeting, Dr. Losada introduced Don 
Carlos to his friend. They had a long talk together 
on things pertaining to the kingdom of God, then 
by degrees the story of the invalid son was told. 
Dr. Losada said, ‘‘ If Carlos could go to Paris, and 
remain in the hospital, it is barely possible that he 
might be benefited. An eminent surgeon there 
has performed several remarkable cures in cases 
similar to this one.” 

“ It would be impossible for me to send the 
boy to Paris just at present,” said Dr. Sebastian. 

My friend,” replied Don Carlos, “ my home 
lies on the borders of France. It would be a pleas- 
ure for me to send your son to Paris, and I will see 
that he has a trusty escort thither, if you will place 
him in my care. I feel a deep interest in my un- 
happy namesake.” 

'' I cannot refuse such a generous offer,” replied 
Dr. Sebastian. '' Accept a father’s thanks.” 

So it was decided that the youthful Carlos should 
return to Logrono with his kind benefactor. 


CHAPTER VIL 


FATHER Padilla’s suspicions. 

Inform Father Jerome on his return to the 
house that Count de Menoz desires an audience 
with him in the library.” 

“ Yes, your reverence.” 

The Superior of the House of the Jesuits, in Val- 
ladolid, was Father Padilla, a middle-aged man 
with a long thin face, strongly marked features, and 
eyes in which lurked a sinister expression. The 
Count de Menoz was in the prime of life, with sol- 
dierly bearing and quick energetic movements. 

“What are your impressions of Father Jerome? ” 
inquired the Count. 

“ I am not prepared to answer your question,” 
was the reply. “ The young priest has only been 
with us a short time, you know.” 

“ You are very guarded, to say the least,” said 
the Count impatiently. “ Has Jerome given you 
any cause for complaint ? Come, your reverence, 
that is a direct question and deserves a like answer.” 

A suggestion of a smile hovered about the shrewd 
face of the Superior. 


70 


FATHER PADILLA'S SUSPICIONS. 


71 


‘‘Very well, Count. I have several complaints 
to enter against Father Jerome. In the first place, 
he persists in keeping apart from the brethren. 
Evidently he does not care to fraternize with them. 
He seeks solitude, and is over-zealous in his ob- 
servance of fasts and penances. I like not his mor- 
bidly sensitive conscience.” 

“ By the mass ! ” cried the Count, “ I have heard 
superiors before now who complained of the indif- 
ference and laxity of the monks under their charge, 
but never did I hear of a monk who was so zealous 
and so conscientious as to merit censure.” 

“ Zeal is well enough up to a certain point, 
Count. Beyond that point it is a superfluous waste 
of energy. What is the life-rule of our great Igna- 
tius? ‘ Remarkable shrewdness and little sanctity 
are better than great sanctity and little shrewdness.^ 
I do not like to see a young monk devouring books, 
meditating by the hour, keeping nightly vigils, and 
wasting his substance in eternal fasts and humilia- 
tions. This sort of thing cannot be kept up indefi- 
nitely. Sooner or later there will be a reaction, and 
reactions are dangerous.” 

“ Father Jerome is an enthusiast,” remarked the 
Count. 

“ Exactly. And we have no use for enthusiastic 
young monks here. General Borgia has filled his 
head with lofty ideals concerning the priesthood, 
and with other ascetic notions, which I shall have 


72 


FATfTER JEROME. 


to Uproot, or the young priest will not amount to 
anything. Already he has grown gloomy and un- 
approachable.” 

General Borgia wrote me that the youth was 
unusually gifted, and he prophesied that he would 
one day fill a high place in the church,” said the 
Count. 

“ He is talented, I grant you that. If we can 
graft a little worldly wisdom into his character, to- 
gether with more coolness and calculation, I shall 
have hopes of him. He evidently has expected to 
find great sanctity in the cloister, and he is experi- 
encing a sense of chagrin at finding things other- 
wise. This is a wholesome lesson for him, and will 
serve as a corrective if received in a proper spirit. 
Prayers and penances are good things in their 
places, but they are not healthful for a steady diet. 
As one of the great fathers of the church said, ‘ A 
man must escape from the mental servitude of the 
neophyte if he would rise to eminence.’ ” 

Your reverence,” announced one of the monks. 
Father Jerome has returned.” 

Send him in here at once. If you have no ob- 
jections, Count, I should like to watch the young 
priest while he is conversing with you.” 

'' Stay, by all means, Father Padilla. I have 
nothing of a private character to say to him.” 

Father Jerome entered the room, and bowing re- 
spectfully, stood in silence. 


father PADILLA'S SUSPICIONS. 


73 


‘‘ I am delighted to find you established in the 
cloister, Father,” said the Count, rising and taking 
the monk’s cold passive hand in his own. '' You 
have at last reached the goal of your ambitions. 
Allow me to present my congratulations.” 

Many thanks. Count,” replied Father Jerome. 

I am sorry not to have been able to attend 
either the prize debate, or the ceremony of conse- 
cration. I fully planned to witness both, but since 
Lutheran heresy has been discovered in various sec- 
tions, my time, together with that of other Inquisi- 
tors, has been fully occupied. I think you can be 
of great service to us in seeking out heresy, and 
reporting it to headquarters.” 

“ I shall be glad to serve you in any legitimate 
way. Count,” was the prompt reply. 

The Superior arched his eyebrows at the word 
legitimate,” but allowed the conversation to pro- 
ceed without interruption. 

“ I hope you will enjoy your life here. Father 
Jerome, and I beg you to give up so much study 
and thinking. You really look ill. Try and curb 
your zeal, or you will lose your health. Remember 
that I take a great interest in your welfare.” 

“ Many thanks. Count, for your kind wishes. I 
am certainly grateful to you for all you have done 
for me. Without your patronage, I could never 
have gained so liberal an education.” 

‘‘ I am your friend. Father Jerome, and have al- 


74 


FATHER JEROME. 


ways been. Let us not speak of gratitude. Rise 
to eminence, by the exercise of your talents, and 
I shall feel more than repaid for my efforts in your 
behalf. This is all I have to say to you, to-day.’' 

The monk bowed and silently left the room. 

What do you think of him ? ” inquired the Su- 
perior. 

“ He has certainly changed a great deal since I 
last saw him. Do find a way to stop his fasts and 
penances. Poor fellow, he looks wretchedly ! ” 

As Father Jerome passed out into the hall he 
encountered Father Gregory, the eldest monk in 
the establishment, and the one who wielded au- 
thority over the other monks in the absence of the 
Superior. He was a great gossip and a mischief- 
maker as well. He was engaged in entertaining 
an elderly priest. Father Ambrose by name, who 
was the cura in the adjoining hamlet. Eager to 
learn the news. Father Gregory advanced upon the 
young priest with the words: 

“ Did the Conde de Menoz have an important 
message for you ? He seemed hardly able to await 
your arrival.” 

“ Nothing of special importance,” replied Father 
Jerome, who thoroughly disliked his interlocutor. 

Is he going to remain here to dinner ? ” pur- 
sued the inquisitive monk. 

“ I do not know. Perhaps you had better step 
into the library and ask him,” was the answer, ac- 


FATHER PADILLA'S SUSPICIONS. 


75 


companied by a look of ill-concealed disgust. Bow- 
ing, the young priest passed on. 

Father Gregory’s face darkened. Insolent beg- 
gar ! ” he said in an undertone. How does he 
dare to put on such puppy airs to me ? We will 
humble him one of these fine days.” 

Rejoining his guest, he said, “ Did you notice 
that young man ? He is the latest arrival at the 
House.” 

“ Indeed, I thought him very distinguished look- 
ing,” replied Father Ambrose. 

He is very conceited, and entirely lacking in 
those graces of humility and obedience to superiors 
which our Father Ignatius enjoins upon his fol- 
lowers.” 

Is that so ? ” returned Father Ambrose tim- 
idly. I thought the young man looked sad and 
ill.” 

“ He is very exclusive,” continued Father 
Gregory. “ He prefers solitude to the society of 
any of the brethren. He is the protege of Count 
de Menoz. There seems to be some mystery about 
him, which as yet I have not unravelled. They say 
the Count seeks some high preferment in the 
church for him. I have even heard a cardinal’s hat 
hinted at. But he will never win that, I am con- 
fident. There is something very suspicious about 
the fellow.” 

Is that really so ? ” was all poor Father Am- 


76 


FATHEJ^ JEROME. 


brose could utter, with eyes meekly cast on the 
ground. 

Father Gregory glanced contemptuously at the 
shabby figure of the old man. 

“ You never felt the fires of ambition seething in 
your veins, did you, brother ? ” 

Never,’' said Father Ambrose. “ By all that is 
holy, I never had an aspiration beyond the desire 
of knowing my superior’s will, and then humbly 
performing it.” 

“ Then you will always remain a happy man, and 
will have the approval of your conscience and the 
benediction of our Holy Church, which I prophesy 
is more than can be said of some others,” with an 
angry look in the direction of Father Jerome. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


A HELPING HAND. 

“Your Excellency, Padre Padilla and Padre 
Ortiz,’’ announced a servant in livery. 

The occasion was the fete given by Count de 
Menoz, to celebrate his son’s birthday. The 
princely mansion was ablaze with the light from 
hundreds of silver lamps. The rooms were hung 
with old tapestries, worked in elaborate patterns 
of gold. From the walls were suspended shields 
and other trophies of arms. The broad marble 
stairway was thronged with people, resplendent 
with jewels and costly apparel. 

Count de Menoz greeted the priests with marked 
cordiality. Don Luis received Father Padilla’s 
smooth congratulations, and Father Jerome’s bow, 
with distant politeness. Both of the young men 
maintained a hostile silence. 

Father Jerome had secretly rebelled against at- 
tending the fete, but his Superior had insisted that 
it was well for him to gain a little knowledge of 
society. 

“ It might have been well for me to have done 

77 


78 


FATHER JEROME. 


this before I took my vows, your reverence, but not 
now, oh not now.’’ 

There was a look of dumb entreaty in those 
mournful eyes, which was not lost on Father 
Padilla. 

Remember your vow of obedience,” replied the 
Superior sternly. “ When I give you strange com- 
mands, I have my reasons for doing so, and you 
have promised faithfully to serve your Superior as 
the staff in his hands.” 

The reason for Father Jerome’s reluctance was 
this: ever since his accidental meeting with Doha 
Irene Sebastian, the sweet, pure face of the young 
girl was ever present with him. It destroyed his 
peace of mind. For days before his consecration to 
the priesthood he underwent the Discipline, and 
for several nights he knelt on the stones of the 
chapel in prayer the whole night long. A degree of 
quietness came into his tortured soul, and he sin- 
cerely hoped by faithful, humble submission, by the 
silent fulfilment of duty, and by incessant prayer, 
to become a worthy son of the church. Still, know- 
ing his weakness, he dreaded to face temptation. 

After greeting his host, the Superior had left his 
companion to make shift for himself. Father 
Jerome withdrew to a corner of the room, where 
he could overlook the festivities, and at the same 
time attract no attention. 

Those who noticed him, bowed respectfully. 


A HELPING HAND, 


79 


giving him the honor due to his position as a priest, 
but no one spoke with him. His eye roved over 
the ballroom, where stood many a group worthy 
of a great painter’s brush. Graceful and magnifi- 
cently dressed ladies moved about the rooms, rest- 
ing on the arms of jewelled and ruffled Caballeros. 
Now and then his eye marked a familiar face. 
There was Count de Menillo, his son Enrique, and 
his daughters, Doha Inez and Doha Consuelo. Yes, 
and just entering the room was his friend Alfonso. 
Behind him, and leaning on the arm of her father, 
was Doha Irene Sebastian. A veritable queen of 
beauty she appeared to him, with those bewitching 
dimples in her cheeks, and smiling lips curved like 
a Cupid’s bow. With beating pulse. Father Jerome 
gazed at the lovely girl. Then with a mighty effort 
at self-control, he turned to leave the room. The 
man within him pleaded for one more look at the 
sweet face, but the priest said sternly to himself, 
“ Beware ! beware ! What has a consecrated son 
of the church to do with thoughts of love ? ” He 
moved swiftly toward the balcony, when a hand 
touched his shoulder, and the voice of Count de 
Menoz sounded in his ear. 

‘‘ One moment, if you please. Father Jerome. 
I have been desirous for some time of speaking 
with you concerning my son. It is my privilege to 
choose a confessor for him, and it is my earnest 
wish tb^t you serve him in that capacity.” 


8o 


FATHER JEROME. 


‘‘ Impossible, Count ! ’’ 

How so ? ” 

“ Of course you cannot be ignorant of the fact 
that in the university we were far from friendly. 
In fact, we were open enemies. Your proposal 
would be exceedingly trying for both of us.” 

“ Nevertheless it is my wish, nay more, my com- 
mand,” replied the Count imperiously. “ We will 
now consider the matter as settled. I perceive that 
you are not enjoying the festivities of the evening,” 
he added, noting the look of weariness on Father 
Jerome’s face. 

You are right. Count. These gayeties seem 
like an idle mockery to me. I did not wish to 
come.” 

‘‘ Tut ! tut ! my boy. You must get over your 
fits of melancholy. You do not belong to an Order 
which keeps its followers in cells. The disciples 
of Loyola mingle freely with men, and enjoy the 
amenities of life. You must relinquish that ascetic 
idea of solitude, and be happy.” 

The Count was called away, and as dancing was 
about to be inaugurated. Father Jerome proceeded 
on his way to the balcony. Once more his eyes 
rested on the brilliant assembly. Don Luis de 
Menoz was just leading his partner, Dona Irene 
Sebastian, to the head of the room for the opening 
number. The priest’s eyes blazed at the sight. The 
young girl seemed conscious of his intense gaze. 


A HELPING HAND. 


8l 


A familiar look about the priest’s face made her in- 
quire, 

Who is that monk, Don Luis ? ” 

“ Father Jerome Ortiz,” answered the young 
man. ‘‘Doesn’t he look like a skeleton at the feast? 
Conceited prig ! I do not see why father saw fit 
to invite him this evening. He was a poor lad, 
whom the Count picked up from the gutter out of 
charity, and educated. He stares at us as though 
he thought our innocent gayety a sin.” 

Dona Irene made no reply. When next she 
looked for those mournful eyes, they had vanished. 

Later in the evening, as Alfonso de Menillo was 
passing along the balcony, he spied the solitary 
figure of his friend, with his face buried in his hands. 

“ Why, Jerome, old fellow, you look downcast. 
I have been searching for you all the evening. Why 
do you not improve your freedom from the musty 
cloister, and enjoy this gorgeous spectacle ? ” 

“ This is no place for one dressed as I am,” re- 
plied the priest, glancing at the black robe of his 
Order. “ I feel strangely out of place. The enjoy- 
ments of youth, and I, have nothing in common.” 

“ Are you not happy in your vocation ? ” in- 
quired Alfonso. 

“ Happy ? ” echoed his friend. “ I do not know 
the meaning of the word. Did you ever notice, 
Alfonso, in your walks into the country, a tract of 
green turf which the wind has covered with a thick 


82 


FATHER JEROME. 


carpet of decayed autumn leaves ? The grass be- 
low is stifled, and dies for want of light and air. I 
find myself enclosed in such a spot. The buds of 
promise are stifled beneath withered hopes and 
empty ambitions. Here I must spend my days, 
without the slightest prospect of emancipation.” 

Pray, then, Jerome, why did you choose the 
priesthood for a profession ? ” 

Alfonso, I did not choose. Others chose for 
me. Such a pressure was brought to bear upon me 
from my youth up, that I was powerless to resist. 
Invisible hands closed the doors of other profes- 
sions. I was forced to submit to my fate. To- 
night I have awakened to the fact that it has all 
been a terrible mistake. I ought to have battled 
manfully against fate.” 

“ Poor fellow ! ” said Alfonso sympathetically. 

Is it as bad as that ? I see no way out of it, un- 
less you break your vows and leave the country.” 

I keep faith ever ! ” was the proud reply. No, 
Alfonso, I allowed myself to drift into the priest- 
hood, and now I shall continue therein and do the 
best I can. But come and see me often. Your 
visits will do more to cheer me than you can imag- 
ine. Now I must seek Father Padilla. I trust by 
this time he is ready to depart.” 

The Superior was closeted with the two Inquisi- 
tors, Count de Menoz and Count de Menillo. A 
decanter and wine-glasses were on a side table, and 


A HELPING HAND. 83 

the three men were imbibing deep draughts of the 
choicest vintages of Val de Penas and Xeres. 

The Superior filled his glass to the brim, and 
gazed at the fragrant beverage with the loving eye 
of a connoisseur. “ I am willing to wager, your 
excellency^” he said, addressing his host, that you 
will die of a green old age. Domine Dios ! This 
wine is potent enough to carry a man far into a 
hundred years.” He drained the glass, and his com- 
panions did likewise. 

“ Your Excellencies,” said Father Padilla, “ how 
does the heresy-hunt progress ? ” 

'' Finely,” replied Count de Menillo. “ We have 
established a rigid censorship of the press in all the 
centres of learning, and we have suppressed the 
Holy Scriptures. We have condemned all Hebrew 
and Greek Bibles, or Bibles translated into the 
Spanish language; also, works of devotion and 
books of hours have been condemned by us, be- 
cause most of them contained fragments of Scrip- 
ture. For myself, I never read the Scriptures. I 
consider the mere desire to read them a symptom 
of heresy.” 

So do I,” echoed Count de Menoz. But you 
will be surprised to learn. Father Padilla, that in 
spite of all our efforts, contraband goods have been 
smuggled into the country. In a ship from Hol- 
land, bound for Valencia, were found two casks of 
Lutheran books which we immediately took to the 


84 


FATHER JEROME. 


Plaza and burned. In the same way, heretic books 
came from Paris in burgundy and champagne wine- 
casks. We have placed a strict coast-guard in the 
provinces of Guipuscoa, Navarre, Aragon, and 
Catalonia, as it is through these provinces that the 
evil is most likely to come. We are maturing our 
plans slowly. Nothing is gained by haste. One of 
these days, the sleeping tiger will awaken, and the 
sheep will be scattered in a trice.” 

At this moment Father Jerome appeared in the 
doorway, and asked his Superior’s permission to 
retire. Father Padilla was feeling the effects of the 
generous wine. “ See, your Excellencies," he cried, 
“ what a long face the young brother wears! Cheer 
up ! ” he said, tapping Father Jerome familiarly 
on the shoulder. “ ‘ Merry people,’ said our great 
Ignatius, ‘ are worth twice as much as sorrowful 
ones, and the vow of a Jesuit does not obligate one 
to hang his head.’ ” 

Later, when they reached the cloister, Father 
Padilla said to his companion, “ My young brother, 
you really must leave off some of your prudish no- 
tions, or you will not become a successful priest.” 

“ Your theology. Father Padilla, grows daily 
more difficult of comprehension.” 

“ Do you, a novice, pretend to criticise your 
Superior ? ” was the angry retort. “ I shall have 
a poor account to give of you when next I write 
General Borgia.” 


A HELPING HAND. 


85 


One beautiful afternoon not long afterward, 
Father Jerome having escaped from Father 
Gregory's petty persecutions, went out for a stroll 
into the country. After leaving the city gates and 
following the river for some distance, he climbed 
a slight eminence and sat down to rest in a grove 
of cork-oaks and chestnuts. 

Before him lay the quaint old city of Valladolid, 
its spires and domes bathed in golden light. In 
the valleys were corn-fields, olive-gardens, and 
vineyards. Yonder hillside glowed with the pink 
bloom of the rhododendron, while acres of aspho- 
del clothed with beauty a barren waste. The pleas- 
ant song of farmers came to his ear. He could 
discern in the distance a pair of oxen that crept 
tardily along, tickling the surface of the ground 
with a tiny wooden ploughshare which they were 
lazily drawing over the long furrows. 

The priest had no eyes for the beauty of the 
scene. His thoughts were self-centred. How was 
he to endure for a lifetime the hateful bondage of 
the cloister, and the dreary loneliness of an ascetic 
life ? How was he to forever banish from his 
thoughts the innocent enjoyments of youth and the 
companionship of friends ? He pictured himself 
as he should appear thirty years hence, if he was 
unfortunate enough to live so long. He would be 
transformed into a cold, mechanical “ mass-priest," 
with thin face and bloodless lips, whose sole occu- 


86 


FATHER JEROME, 


pation would be to recite the Latin services of the 
church with glib tongue, and to keep a sharp look- 
out for his dues. 

A life of asceticism such as the cloister enjoins, 
tends to dwarf the character and to make it emi- 
nently selfish. It is not out of the world, but in it, 
that God would have us live and serve him. The 
world has claims upon us which it is cowardice to 
shrink from and folly to deny. Large interests help 
to keep the heart sound, and the sincerest prayer 
may be the simple doing of a worthy act from a 
pure purpose. 

A dim perception of these truths dawned upon 
Father Jerome’s mind, and with a groan he threw 
himself upon the grass and buried his face in his 
hands. 

“ Are you ill, good father ? ” said a voice. 

Rising hastily, the priest saw before him the 
kindly face of a dwarf. 

“ Pardon me for disturbing you,” continued the 
little man. I was asleep under yonder trees, and 
your voice awakened me. Can I help you in any 
way ? ” 

“ Thanks, my friend. I am not ill. Who are 
you and what are you doing here ? ” he added, 
gazing curiously at this strange muleteer. “ I have 
a dim recollection of having seen you somewhere.” 

My name is Julian Hernandez, and I am on my 
way to the north of Spain with a load of small 


A HELPING HAND. 


87 


wares which my mules carry. I saw you, Father, 
at the feast of ‘ Our Lady ’ at Saragossa, and if 
I may be so bold as to say it, you looked happier 
then than you do now. Does not the service of 
the church bring happiness ? ” 

Father Jerome looked in astonishment at this 
strange muleteer. His words sounded bold, but 
they were uttered in a respectful manner and 
with a certain dignity which commanded respect. 
Wishing to hear the little man talk further, the 
priest answered the peculiar question which had 
just been propounded. 

Nothing can make a man happy, Julian, when 
his heart is full of bitterness. We were all born to 
trouble, and each one of us must bear his own 
burden.’^ 

The haggard, sorrowful face of the young priest 
touched the muleteer’s kind heart. Looking ear- 
nestly at Father Jerome, he said with the simple 
directness of a child, “Good Father, our Lord Jesus 
Christ can comfort you and make you happy. Are 
you acquainted with him ? ” 

“ That is a strange question for you to ask,” re- 
plied the priest with a trace of haughtiness in his 
tones. “ I am a regularly consecrated son of the 
church, and studied theology at the University of 
Saragossa. I know all that the schools can teach 
about God and his blessed Son.” He crossed him- 
self mechanically as he spoke. 


88 


FATHER JEROME, 


Pardon me, Father, for my words. Far be it 
from me, a humble muleteer, to question your 
learning. You know a great deal about our Lord, 
but do you know him as your friend ? ” 

Father Jerome looked perplexed, then he re- 
plied hesitatingly. “ Why, certainly not. Only the 
great saints in the church are permitted to come 
into intimate acquaintance with the Son of God.” 

‘‘You have been misinformed. Father.” 

“ How so ? ” 

“ I have the Lord’s own words for it. He says: 
‘ Henceforth I call you not servants, for the servant 
knoweth not what his lord doeth; but I have called 
you friends.’ And he invites all to come to him 
who are weary or heavy-laden. Christ said that 
his mission was to reveal the Father, and to lead 
men to a knowledge of God.” 

A sudden suspicion crossed Father Jerome’s 
mind. 

“ Julian,” he said sternly, “ I feel certain that you 
have been reading one of those proscribed transla- 
tions of the New Testament into the Spanish lan- 
guage. Know you not that the church has imposed 
heavy penalties upon those who are disobedient ? ” 

“ I know all. Father, yet I am not sorry that I 
have read my Lord’s words for myself. They have 
brought happiness to my soul. Will you not exam- 
ine this treasure,” he added, taking a small book 
from his pocket and handing it to the priest. “ It 


A HELPING HAND. 89 

will lift the burden from your mind and make you 
sing for joy.” 

Touched by the earnestness of the man, Father 
Jerome took the volume. 

Certainly, Julian, I will read the book if you 
wish. The Scriptures are designed for scholars. I 
can suffer no harm by reading them, for if I should 
discover any heretical doctrine I should straight- 
way burn the book. I thank you for your kind in- 
terest in my welfare, but I beg of you not to offer 
your gift to every priest you meet. I shall not be- 
tray you, but another Jesuit might.” 

Father Jerome placed the precious volume in his 
pocket, and held out his hand to the dwarf.- “I shall 
have to return to the cloister now. Vaya con 
Dios ! ” he added, making the sign of the cross. 

“ May God’s blessing attend the reading of his 
word,” replied Julian. 

“ That little muleteer is either mad or he is one 
of those Lutheran heretics,” thought the priest as 
he walked slowly away. '' But he has a kind heart, 
and I am grateful for any human sympathy. I 
shall not report him to Father Padilla.” 

As Father Jerome came out of the woods, he saw 
to his surprise, some distance away, Doha Sebas- 
tian. Hastily following in her footsteps was Don 
Luis de Menoz, accompanied by his hunting dogs. 
Directly he was by the maiden’s side. Doha Irene 
seemed to be expostulating with the young noble- 


90 


FATHER JEROME. 


man to no purpose. With dogged pertinacity Don 
Luis remained by her side. Father Jerome com- 
prehended the situation immediately. With a few 
swift strides he reached the spot. 

“ Don Luis/^ he said in an authoritative tone, 
did you not hear Doha Sebastian’s request for 
your departure ? I will myself escort her to a place 
of safety.” 

“ Dog of a priest ! ” cried Don Luis. You 
have twice crossed my path and interfered with my 
plans. I demand satisfaction ! ” 

“ You shall have it on my return.” 

Doha Irene and her companion went in silence 
to a cottage just outside the city gates, where they 
found Ursula looking about anxiously for her 
charge. 

“ Never leave your young mistress alone again,” 
said the priest sternly, addressing the housekeeper. 
“ I return thanks to the Holy Mother that Doha 
Sebastian has been protected to-day.” 

On his return to the chestnut grove, he found 
Don Luis pacing back and forth in his wrath. 

“ Now, Don Luis, I am at your service,” said 
Father Jerome. 

Explain to me, your reverence, what you mean 
by your impertinence ? ” 

I desired to shield Doha Sebastian from harm. 
Your reputation, Don de Menoz, as you must 
know, has been very unsavory since your return to 


A HELPING HAND, 


91 


Valladolid. It would have been a serious breach 
of etiquette for you to have been seen walking 
alone with her.’' 

“ I love her, Father Jerome, and by all the saints, 
she shall be mine ! ” 

“ If your intentions are honorable, seek her at 
her father’s house. The road to Dr. Sebastian’s 
home is open. But you know as well as I that your 
father has planned a more aristocratic alliance for 
you. It would suit him ill to have you wed Doha 
Sebastian.” 

Don Luis was silent. His reason told him that 
Father Jerome was right. 

My duties call me back to the cloister,” said his 
companion. “ If you desire anything farther of me, 
you can command me there. Adios ! ” 

Don Luis uttered idle curses at the retreating 
figure. Then, calling his dogs, he went in the op- 
posite direction. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THE Jesuit’s conversion. 

Dona Irene Sebastian sat in the beautiful 
summer-house with a piece of embroidery in her 
hands. Mother Ursula was in the kitchen by an 
open window which overlooked the garden and 
likewise her young mistress. Just now she was 
nodding in her chair, with her hands folded se- 
renely across her capacious lap. A shadow fell 
across the walk, and looking up, Doha Irene found 
herself face to face with Don Luis. She had not 
seen him since the afternoon of her walk, and a 
flush rose to her cheeks as she recalled his un- 
courteous behavior. She rose to leave the summer- 
house, when his pleading voice restrained her. 

Do not go, Doha Sebastian, I implore you. If 
you only knew how much I have longed to see you, 
that I might apologize for my rudeness and beg 
your forgiveness. Believe me, Doha, nothing but 
shame and the fear of your displeasure have kept 
me away.” 

I accept your apologies, Don de Menoz, and I 

92 


THE JESUIT'S CONVERSION. 93 

will remain willingly if you have anything to say 
to me which you wish me to hear. Pray be seated.” 

Don Luis seemed not to heed her request, but 
paced nervously back and forth. His features 
looked harsher and more repulsive than ever. His 
sallow face and sunken eyes bore evidence of a life 
of dissipation. Some great emotion seemed to agi- 
tate him, for his thin vindictive lips trembled. His 
whole bearing indicated a curious mixture of bold- 
ness and timidity, of arrogance and yearning. 

Lifting his cold gray eyes, he said, Doha Sebas- 
tian, I want your good opinion. Let every one 
else speak ill of me, I care not, if only you do not 
dislike me. Tell me that you do not ! ” There was 
a repressed pleading in his tones which touched 
Doha Irene’s kind heart, the more so that she knew 
these words came from lips little used to begging 
favors. 

He looked eagerly into the calm, sweet face. 

Don de Menoz,” she said gently, I certainly 
do not dislike you. Indeed I know very little about 
you. I see that you are unhappy, and for that I 
am truly sorry.” A good woman’s instinct to com- 
fort and help were in her kind tones. 

The saints bless you, Doha, for your words. 
Know you not that I love you ? Will you not be 
mine ? ” 

Don Luis knelt at her feet, and touched the hem 
of her dress with his lips. 


94 


FATHER JEROME. 


Oh, Don Luis ! ” cried Doha Irene in dismay. 

Why should you love so obscure a maid as I ? 

“ I love you, Doha, because of the goodness and 
purity which I see stamped on your face. When I 
look at you, I am no longer a sin-stained weary 
man, but an innocent child. When I am with you, 
I believe once more in God and in his saints, and 
by your side I know angels would guard me from 
harm. I know I am harsh, but in your hands my 
heart could be moulded as wax. You should be my 
guide through life, and whatever you willed should 
be done. Gracious and beloved sehorita, will you 
be mine ? ” 

Don Luis had approached Doha Sebastian with 
the most dangerous appeal a man can make to the 
woman he loves. A true woman always hesitates 
to repulse one who desires to be led by her into 
paths of goodness. It is a question whether her 
duty permit her to refuse. A struggle between 
duty and inclination was plainly visible on the 
maiden’s face. Don Luis saw it, and gave a low 
cry. 

“ You do not love me, Doha ? ” 

She looked at him sadly, as she answered, No, 
Don de Menoz.” 

He rose to his feet. His whole frame seemed 
convulsed by the shock of her refusal. His love 
for Doha Sebastian was the only pure passion of his 
life. 


THE JESUIT'S CONVERSION. 


95 


The maiden felt for his anguish. Oh, do not 
grieve so,” she cried, the tears rolling down her 
cheeks. I am so sorry to refuse your request. I 
pity you from the bottom of my heart.” 

‘‘ It is love I want, Doha, and not pity,” replied 
Don Luis as he strode fiercely back and forth. To 
offer me pity is to offer me poison.” Then his 
voice changed to one of tender pleading. My suit 
has been abrupt, Doha. Take time, and think 
about it. Perhaps you can learn to love me.” He 
drew near her and took her hand. She shrank in- 
voluntarily from his touch. 

It is no use, Don de Menoz. I cannot love 
you.” 

The young nobleman dropped her hand, and 
broke into a sneering laugh. “ The priests told us 
right when they said that a woman can destroy 
Paradise. You can never realize, Doha, what your 
love might have done for me. Let me cease to 
think about it, since it is never to be mine.” His 
features settled into their wonted harsh and sullen 
expression. 

“ Pray let us dismiss this subject,” said Doha 
Irene. ‘‘ We are causing each other needless pain. 
Forgive me for feeling obliged to wound you so 
deeply.” 

Forgive you ? ” he echoed. Doha, I shall 
never forgive you. Do men forgive the hand which 
smites the death-blow ? I was like a thirsty travel- 


96 


FATHER JEROME. 


ler who found a cooling stream in the desert. I 
was like a weary toiler who sees just before him a 
haven of rest. Can a man forgive the one who 
dashes the cooling draught from his lips, and who 
changes his heaven into a hell ? ” In the face of 
Don Luis the softer feelings of tenderness and re- 
gret were struggling with the demons of anger and 
jealousy. He looked long and earnestly at Dona 
Sebastian. All his devouring thirst for love was in 
that look. Then the hot blood surged to his face, 
and he demanded abruptly: 

“ Doha, do you love another ? 

Doha Irene’s cheeks flamed as she replied with 
dignity, “ You forget yourself, Don de Menoz. 
You have no right to ask me this question. Suffice 
it that I do not love you.” 

“ Some day you will rue the words you have just 
spoken,” said Don Luis in a harsh voice. “ My 
love was not a thing to be cast aside like a worth- 
less toy. The saints be praised, a man’s dream of 
happiness can be broken but once.” Then, with- 
out a word of farewell, he strode away. 

The appearance of her friend, Doha Consuelo, 
put an end to Doha Irene’s sad meditations. 

Why do you look so downcast, amiga mia ? 
Have you had bad news of Carlos ? ” 

Oh, no, Consuelo. Carlos has reached Paris in 
safety and the doctors speak encouragingly of his 
case.” 


THE JESUIT'S CONVEKSIOH. 97 

She then confided the story of the young noble- 
man’s proposal of marriage to her sympathetic 
friend. 

“ You did bravely, Irene, to refuse the conceited 
fellow. He thinks he has only to nod to bring 
every maiden in Valladolid to his feet. I hope this 
may serve to teach him a lesson.” 

Before she slept, Irene told her father all that 
had happened, not omitting to mention the walk 
by the river-side, and her meeting with Father 
Jerome. 

“ What did Don de Menoz mean, father, by say- 
ing that I should rue the day wherein I refused 
him ? Do you think he can do us harm ? ” 

A terrible thought passed through Dr. Sebas- 
tian’s mind. The father of Don Luis was one of 
the Inquisitors. Would he dare ? — Without stop- 
ping to follow out so dreadful a thought, the doc- 
tor answered cheerfully, 

“ Do not worry, my daughter. It was but the 
idle threat of a coward. Think no more about the 
matter. Don Luis cannot have my sweet wild- 
flower, even if he does covet it.” Then he added 
seriously, “ I would not have you marry Don de 
Menoz, if by so doing you could save my life. Bet- 
ter death, a hundred times, than to see you the wife 
of that libertine.” 

5jS * * * * * ^ 

When Father Jerome began to read the New 


98 


FATHER JEROME. 


Testament he did it solely to redeem his promise 
to Julian Hernandez. Like other Spanish Catho- 
lics of his time, he regarded the Scriptures in much 
the same light as we regard torpedoes to-day — 
very dangerous playthings in the hands of the igno- 
rant or careless, but in capable, scientific hands, 
like his own, harmless and possibly beneficial. 

Father Jerome was a scholar of no mean abili- 
ties. He possessed the gifts out of which great 
churchmen are made. The Jesuit fathers were 
quick to note this, and they had sharpened these 
intellectual weapons until they acquired the ex- 
quisite temper of a Damascus blade. Young as he 
was. Father Jerome could enter the arena of con- 
troversy, and with his intellectual sword deal mor- 
tal wounds to gallant adversaries. Nature had en- 
dowed him with a sensitive, truthful conscience. 
If at the outset the truth had been presented to 
him, he would have turned to it as naturally as the 
needle to the pole. Not what is right, but what is 
expedient had ever been the motto of the univer- 
sity. Do your best for the church first of all,” 
said his spiritual guardians, “ then your best for 
yourself and your family.” As a natural conse- 
quence, his moral sensibilities were warped. 

At first Father Jerome carelessly turned the 
pages of the New Testament, reading a sentence 
here and there with a critical eye, anxious to dis- 
cover heterodoxy. With the conceit of youth, he 


THE JESUIT'S CONVERSION 


99 


expected to be able at once to detect the clever 
syllogisms and flimsy webs of heresy, and by his 
superior wisdom to crush them to atoms. Before 
he was aware of it, he became profoundly interested 
in the narrative of Christ’s life and passion, and, 
turning back to St. Matthew, he read the four gos- 
pels consecutively, as he had opportunity. Instead 
of lifting the weight from his soul, the study of the 
Scriptures only plunged him still deeper in the gulf 
of despair. For the first time in his life he realized 
the awful consciousness of personal sin. He felt 
himself to be a lost sinner before the Judge of all 
the world. He cried out again and again in his 
anguish, “ God is just, and I am lost ! The whole 
tenor of my thoughts and affections has been con- 
trary to God’s holy law; I deserve to be lost ! ‘ Oh, 
wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me from 
the body of this death ? ’ ” 

After weeks of careful study of God’s word and 
of mental conflict, there came a day when, looking 
with the eye of faith up to heaven. Father Jerome 
saw a Face full of compassion and tenderness and a 
voice said, Son you are lost. But I came to seek 
and save that which was lost. I came not to judge, 
but to save. Look on him your sins have pierced, 
and live.” Father Jerome made answer, “ Rab- 
boni ! Master ! ” and in humility and reverence 
he laid his life at the feet of the Crucified, and rose 
up a forgiven, happy child of God, ready to go 


lOO 


FATHER JEROME. 


forth and do God’s bidding. This was to Father 
Jerome the ‘‘ beginning of days,” the birth into that 
new life which should be eternal. 

An event occurred at this time which changed 
the whole current of his after life. One day, toward 
evening, a monk fro n St. Just came to the House 
of the Jesuits. He had a despatch, which the Em- 
peror Charles had bidden him carry to Fray Con- 
stantino of Seville. This celebrated canon-magis- 
tral had at one time been the Emperor’s chaplain 
and was a personal favorite of that monarch. 

That night the Jeronymite brother was taken ill, 
and it was evident in the morning that he would 
be unable to deliver the Emperor’s message. 

“ Have you not some one whom you could send 
in my stead ? ” he inquired of Father Padilla. 

There is Father Jerome,” said the Superior 
thoughtfully. “ He is really the only one who could 
be spared from the House just now.” 

So it happened that Father Jerome was sent to 
Seville, and his acquaintance with the noble Con- 
stantino de Fuente was providentially brought 
about. 

Passing the gorgeous cathedral at Seville, the 
young priest stepped inside to view the interior of 
this splendid edifice. The church was empty, save 
for a nun, who stood fascinated before a row of 
ugly san henitos which hung upon the wall. One 
of these penitential garments was of unusual size. 


THE JESUIT'S CONVERSION, 10 1 

and it was before this one that the sister stood as 
if rooted to the spot. It bore underneath this in- 
scription: “ Rodrigo Valero, an apostate and false 
prophet who pretended to be sent from God.” 

The nun began to speak. “ Oh, no ! not sinners 
above all others. Rodrigo a^d Manuel, you wore 
those ugly memorials of shame and sin, but God 
knows your souls were white. I believe it ! Oh, 
yes, I must believe it, or die ! ” 

She turned her face, and caught sight of Father 
Jerome, who was watching her strange actions with 
astonished eyes. 

Holy Mother ! ” she cried, and her face grew 
livid. “ Dolores, will you give me no peace ? Who 
are you ? ” 

I am Father Jerome Ortiz, from the House of 
the Jesuits at Valladolid.” 

Just then a noble-looking man, attired in the 
garb of a churchman, entered the auditorium. He 
spoke a few words in a low voice to the nun, and 
she relaxed her hold of the young priest’s arm and 
slowly walked away. 

“ Do you know that sister ? ” inquired Father 
Jerome. “ She evidently mistakes me for some 
person she knows.” 

“That is Sister Justina, from the convent of St. 
Catherine at Valladolid. Her mind is evidently un- 
balanced. Every few weeks she comes and stands 
before these san benitos, and talks incoherently. I 


102 


FATHER JEROME. 


have tried in vain to win her confidence, but she 
has never told me what the trouble is which so 
pre^s upon her health. Poor soul, I fear she has 
not long to live. Would that she might know the 
peace of forgiven sin ere she leaves this world.” 

There is now therefore no condemnation to 
them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after 
the flesh but after the spirit,” repeated Father 
Jerome. 

Hfs companion looked astonished. 

“You have read the Scriptures, I perceive.” 

“ Yes, for in them is eternal life; and they testify 
of Christ.” 

The elder man could no longer conceal his emo- 
tion. Stretching out his hand, he said, “ My 
brother, the words of Christ are also precious to 
me. 

“ Am I addressing the most noble Fray Constan- 
tino de Fuente ? ” inquired the young priest. 

“ That is my name. And you ? ” 

“ I am a priest from the House of the Jesuits in 
Valladolid, Jerome Ortiz by name. I am commis- 
sioned to deliver a despatch from the Emperor 
Carlos into your hands.” 

Father Jerome presented the missive, which 
Fray Constantino opened and perused. A smile 
half sad, half humorous, crossed his countenance. 

“ His majesty has written that he learns much 
to his sorrow that there are suspicions of heresy 


THE JESUIT* S COJVJ^ERSION. I03 

afloat concerning me. He implores and commands 
me to so express my thoughts that there shall be 
no doubts concerning my orthodoxy. Come now 
to my house, brother Ortiz, and we will have a talk 
after dinner.” 

May the saints protect your reverence from the 
malice of evil men,” said Father Jerome. 

Why ask the saints to intercede for me ? ” re- 
plied Fray Constantino. ‘‘ Why should we ask 
favors of servants, however good they may be, 
when we have the Master’s ear ? ” 

After dinner, the Fray asked his guest to excuse 
him for a few moments, as he had a little business 
matter to finish. He gave Father Jerome a tract 
which he had written, entitled “ The Confessions 
of a Sinner,” and asked him to look it over during 
his absence. One paragraph in particular caught 
the young priest’s eye. 

Wast thou not chastised for the iniquity of 
others ? Has not thy blood sufficient virtue to 
wash out the sins of all the human race ? Are not 
thy treasures more able to enrich me than all the 
debt of Adam to impoverish me ? Lord, although 
I had been the only person alive, or the only sin- 
ner in the world, thou wouldst not have failecl to 
die for me. What though the guilt of all had been 
mine ? Thy death is all mine. ' Even though I had 
committed all the sins of all, yet would I continue 


104 


FATHER JEROME. 


to trust thee, and to assure myself that thy sacrifice 
and pardon are all mine.” 

Fray Constantino returned. “ Do you find any- 
thing heretical in that treatise ? ” he asked. 

“ No, indeed ! It simply deals with sin and the 
need of a Saviour.” 

“ Yet the charge of heresy has clung to me ever 
since this little pamphlet was issued.” 

“ Do you not think. Fray, that when men fail to 
comprehend a truth, they find the term heresy a 
convenient label with which to brand it in the eyes 
of others ? ” 

“ Yes, brother, and to the larger part of the peo- 
ple of Spain, to-day, religion is nothing but a series 
of festivals and fasts.” 

“ I should like to inquire particularly about one 
matter. Fray Constantino. In my study of the 
Scriptures, I have found no mention made of pur- 
gatory, indulgences, penances, prayers for the dead, 
and adoration of the saints or even of the Holy 
Mother herself. What am I to understand by the 
silence of the Scriptures on these points ? ” 

Father Jerome,” said the Fray solemnly, ‘‘ do 
you wish to know all God’s will ? Are you desirous 
of following Christ whithersoever he leads you ? ” 

“ Yes,” answered his companion, but he trem- 
bled visibly. 

“ Then I will answer your question. These doc- 
trines which the Roman Catholic Church has en- 


FHE JESUIT'S CONVERSION, 


105 


joined upon all her followers have no foundation 
whatever in the word of God. They are sophistries 
of man’s invention.” 

“ But, Fray, surely you believe in the infallibility 
of the Mother Church ? ” 

I believe in God’s word, as revealed in the 
Scriptures.” 

“ O Santo Cristo ! ” cried Father Jerome. '' Are 
we then Lutherans ? Heretics ? ” 

In great distress he arose and paced the floor. 
Fray Constantino watched him a few moments in 
sorrowful silence. 


CHAPTER X. 


COMING INTO LIGHT. 

Let me answer your question by asking you 
another. Are we followers of Christ ? If so, are we 
willing to walk in his footsteps, even though they 
lead to Gethsemane and Calvary ? ” 

“ I cannot, I dare not, become a heretic ! ’’ cried 
Father Jerome. Ask me anything but that. From 
my youth up I have abhorred the disciples of 
Luther, and have despised their faith. I will cleave 
to Christ and the church too.” 

“ In the time of Moses, God wrote these words: 
‘ Every one which sought the Lord went out unto 
the tabernacle of the congregation, which was with- 
out the camp' My brother, if the choice had to be 
made between Christ and the church, should you 
give up Christ ? ” 

There were signs of a great struggle visible on 
the young priest’s face. At last he said, “ I cannot 
give up Christ. No, if what I believe is called 
heresy, then God help me to be strong, and to en- 
dure as seeing him who is invisible.” 

Fray Constantino grasped his companion’s hand. 

io6 


COMING INTO LIGHT. 


107 


'' Father Jerome, you will never regret having 
spoken these words. If Christ calls us to leave the 
sin-stained, superstitious, priest-ridden church, he 
will hold out to us his strong right arm, so that we 
shall be upheld.” 

But the future ! What does it hold for us ? ” 
said the young priest with a shudder. 

Leave that in God’s hands. We have only to 
take one step at a time. It may be that God will 
answer our prayers in a diflerent way from what we 
expect. Perhaps defeat will come first, but truth is 
mighty, and in the end it must prevail. The ques- 
tion about separating from the Mother Church 
need not be settled at present. The time is not yet 
ripe for any radical change. If the church will let 
us and our Bibles alone, there is no need for us to 
leave her communion. It is the Inquisition which 
will drive us into Protestantism. At present I do 
not advocate any rash steps. The confessional I 
regard merely a chair of counsel; the festival 
of the saints a pious remembrance of devout men 
and women; the mass I also interpret in as evan- 
gelical a sense as possible.” 

'' Has this new faith spread very much ? ” in- 
quired Father Jerome. You know that I am en- 
tirely ignorant of the progress of this great move- 
ment.” 

Thank God, it has, and this largely through the 
arduous labors of a brave little colporteur, who has 


I08 FATHER JEROME, 

brought several loads of Bibles and the works of 
Luther over the mountains. There are about a 
thousand in Seville who have embraced these new 
doctrines. I will mention a few names to you, that 
when you hear them spoken of, you may know 
them to be among the faithful ones. You see, 
brother, that I trust you, even though you are a 
Jesuit.” 

“ L would die first, before I would betray one of 
Christ’s little ones,” replied Father Jerome. 

“ The great gathering-place of the infant church 
in Seville is at the house of a noble widow, Doha 
Isabel de Baena. Dr. Christobal Losada is the 
leader. A large number of priests are among the 
converts, which renders the problem much easier. 
The good news has spread to some of the convents 
and cloisters. Almost all tho'monks of San Isidro 
are with us. In Valladolid, you will receive great 
help from Father Augustin Cazalla and Father 
Domingo Rojas. Dr. Sebastian, like Dr. Losada, 
is able through his professional services to reach 
the hearts of many. In the north of Spain, a great 
work is being done by Don Carlos de Seso. Mark 
the name well, for Spain cannot produce another 
so noble a Christian among her lists. His position 
gives him great influence, and he knows no rest in 
his Master’s service. I wish you could attend these 
secret meetings in your own city, brother.” 

I wish that I could. Fray Constantino, but my 


COMING INTO LIGHT. 


109 


movements are under the closest surveillance. Per- 
haps you do not know that the Order of Jesus is 
based on different methods from those usually em- 
ployed in religious houses.” 

“ I both understand and deplore the fact. The 
Society of Jesus is really a political organization, an 
army under a dictator. It has the immense power 
which absence of all scruples, a single object, and 
hosts of determined men all over the world, can 
give. The pope may by and by discover that he 
has created an ‘ imperium in imperio,’ which will 
ultimately limit his own power. You know the old 
myth of Thalaba and the sorceress Maimuna. The 
warrior allowed his hands to be bound with chains 
as fine as spun silk, thinking he could break them 
at will; but when he sought to do this, he found 
that he was held by chains, which, though invisible, 
were indestructible. I regard the Order of Jesus 
with the greatest suspicion, as did my master the 
great Carlos. But I tell you what you can do, 
brother, to develop your spiritual life, and at the 
same time help others. Ask your Superior to allow 
you to preach in some small hamlet. You can be 
prudent, and at the same time preach a pure gospel 
to hungry souls.” 

^‘Your suggestion appeals to me,” said Father 
Jerome. “ If possible, I will try and gain Father 
Padilla’s consent.” 

It now became time for the Jesuit to return 


no 


FATHER JEROME. 


home, and after a word of prayer, and many com- 
plimentary messages for the Superior and the 
Jeronymite monk. Father Jerome went on his way 
rejoicing. The last words of Fray Constantino 
were these: I do not need to bind you to secrecy, 
beloved brother, nor do I need to remind you that 
our conversation must not be repeated at the con- 
fessional. Too often, in these corrupt times, the 
confessional is but the portal to the Inquisition.” 

Father Jerome gazed long and earnestly into the 
noble countenance of the Fray Constantino de 
Fuente. He returned to grasp his hand a second 
time, and to utter eloquent thanks. He was des- 
tined never to look upon the face of his friend 
again. 

We have described this noble Fray at length, for 
he was a person of note and one who gave a 
great impulse to the reformed religion in the south 
of Spain. From the martyr Rodrigo Valero he 
first received the words of life, and in his highly 
cultured mind they developed into a harvest of liv- 
ing grain. Never did God prepare and man reject 
a more polished instrument for a noble work. 

* * * if: * * * 

The trip has done Father Jerome good,” said 
the Superior to Father Gregory. “ He seems less 
melancholy. I think an active life would suit his 
temperament better than the seclusion which is 


COMING INTO LIGHT. 


II 


here enjoined. I must think out some plan for 
him.” 

The prior shook his head. '' Father Jerome is 
a wild bird. Before you set him at liberty I would 
suggest clipping his wings.” 

The day after the young priest’s return, one of 
the brothers informed him that a visitor awaited 
him in the convent parlor. It was his friend Al- 
fonso de Menillo. Alfonso was quick to note his 
friend’s changed appearance. 

“ What is it, old comrade ? ” he said, laying his 
hand affectionately on the other’s shoulder, what 
has chased the clouds from your brow ? ” 

“ Let us walk into the garden, Alfonso. I feel 
as if I could talk better under God’s sky. I have 
a secret which I desire you to know, my friend, 
and yet I tremble to reveal it. Promise me that 
you will regard me with the same look of affection 
after I have told you, as now.” 

To be sure I will, amigo mio. I do not think 
any indiscretions which you may have committed 
will shock me. In fact, I also have a secret to tell 
you.” 

“Your words give me courage, Alfonso. The 
truth is, I have doubts, serious doubts, about many 
of the doctrines of our church. I have positive proof 
that many of the tenets held by the Roman Catho- 
lic Church are simply commandments of men.” 

“ Is that all ? ” cried Alfonso, bursting into a 


II2 


FAl'HER JEROME. 


merry laugh. “ A churchman’s doubts are of no 
consequence. All you have got to do is to recite 
a few Aves and Pater nosters, and they will take to 
themselves wings and fly away.” 

“ But the matter has gone farther than this ! Al- 
fonso, I am a heretic ! A Lutheran ! A Protest- 
ant ! ” 

Father Jerome averted his head that he might 
not see his friend’s countenance, feeling positive 
that a look of scorn would be there. Great was his 
surprise, when Alfonso sprang to his side, and 
seized his hand, exclaiming, 

“ Why, this is grand news, Jerome ! I, too, am 
a Lutheran ! ” 

Their hearts were too full for utterance. Pres- 
ently Father Jerome said, “ What led you into the 
light, Alfonso ? ” 

“ Dr. Sebastian attended me in a slight illness, 
and it was mainly through his teachings that I be- 
came interested. Since then, I have attended sev- 
eral of the secret sessions of the Protestant assem- 
bly at the house of Father Gazalla. I have also 
met Dr. Losada and the Don Carlos de Seso of 
Logrono, and their words have been helpful. And 
how was it with you, Jerome ? ” 

‘‘ A friend loaned me a copy of the New Testa- 
ment, which opened my eyes to the truth, and a 
long conversation with the Fray Constantino estab- 
lished me in the new faith.” 


COMING INTO LIGHT, II3 

“ The Fray Constantino is a right noble came- 
rado” said Alfonso. “ I have heard him several 
times myself. He advanced an idea in one of our 
assemblies which was glorious. It was to the effect 
that our beloved Spain would some time be won to 
this grand reformation, and that we, as a redeemed 
nation, should go forth to evangelize the world.” 

Father Jerome shook his head. ‘‘ I confess, Al- 
fonso, that I have no such roseate hopes with which 
to paint the future.” 

His friend did not heed these words. Like most 
of his countrymen, he idolized his native land. 

Verdad y libertad ! ” he cried. Truth and 
freedom ! This shall be my motto, and on this I 
base my faith. O glorious Spain ! Mistress and 
conqueror of the world ! How vast are thy pos- 
sessions ! The seventeen Netherland provinces, 
twelve kingdorhs of Spain and Portugal, the two 
Sicilies, Milan, Tuscany, Barbary, Guinea, the 
African coast southwards, the Indian peninsula and 
archipelago, the Philippine and Molucca islands, 
Peru, Mexico, Brazil, and the Antilles, from Cape 
Horn to Labrador ! Shalf not our mighty Spain, 
which has been the victor in all these conquests, 
lead the way to the New Jerusalem, whose builder 
and maker is God ? Where is your faith, Jerome ? ” 
Dear Alfonso, I too have faith — but not in 
Spain. My faith is anchored to the Rock of Ages.” 


FATHER JEROME, 


1 14 

A few weeks elapsed before Father Jerome 
sought his Superior and asked if he might be per- 
mitted to spend the winter in Soria, as Father Am- 
brose’s assistant. 

Father Padilla gazed at the monk in astonish- 
ment. At length he replied: 

You do not know what you are asking. Why, 
man, do you not know that a more desolate, bleak, 
God-forsaken place does not exist in Spain ? The 
peasants belong to the lowest class, and are rough 
and lawless.” 

“ I am young and strong, and I shall not mind 
either the cold or the roughness of the people. Be- 
sides, I long for a more stirring life. This inactiv- 
ity is stifling my energies.” 

The Superior looked thoughtful. After a few 
moments he said slowly, “ Father Jerome, I do not 
know what motive has prompted* this strange re- 
quest, but I am inclined to grant it nevertheless. 
But I wish to impress upon your mind, before al- 
lowing you to go from my sight, the sacred charac- 
ter of the oath of obedience which you have taken. 
All your strength, and all your success, depend 
upon the simplicity of blind obedience. ‘ Imperfect 
obedience,’ said the wise Ignatius, ‘ has two eyes, 
but to its own injury; perfect obedience is blind, 
but in that very fact consists its wisdom and per- 
fection.’ Remember these words if temptation 
overtakes you, and do not seek to oppose your own 


COMING INTO LIGHT. 


II5 

little mental light to the light of the Order. I think 
you consider your oath of allegiance too sacred to 
wilfully break it.” 

Father Jerome’s face had grown ashen, but he 
answered, I shall not forget your words, nor the 
sacredness of my pledges.” 

Very well then, the day after to-morrow you 
shall start for Soria. One word more,” he added 
as the monk was about to leave the room, “ Re- 
member this: ^ The company of Jesus is like a 
naked sword, the hilt of which is at Rome and the 
point is all over the world.’ ” 

With these enigmatical words, he dismissed 
Father Jerome with a wave of his hand. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE NUN OF ST. CATHERINE. 

In a sumptuously furnished library Count de 
Menoz sat writing. He was the secretary of the 
Holy Office and his duties were arduous. He had 
just concluded a letter to the Inquisitor General 
Valdes, when a slight noise caused him to pause 
in the act of sealing the letter. He started when 
h^ saw the gaunt, wasted figure of Sister Justina. 
The sight evidently was not agreeable, for a look 
of annoyance crossed his face. 

Why have you come again so soon, Isabel ? 
You must know that I am busy, and unless your 
errand is of more importance than it proved to be 
the last time you were here, this interview had bet- 
ter be postponed. The Grand Inquisitor must re- 
ceive this letter before another twenty-four hours, 
as it contains important news. Pray speak 
quickly.” 

“ I know very well, Pedro, that I am not a wel- 
come visitor, but I have a question to ask you, and 
I shall not leave you until you give me a truthful 
answer.” 

Il6 


THE NUN OF ST. CATHERINE. 


II7 


Well, what is it ? ” said the Count testily 

Is your nephew Rodrigo Valero alive ? ’’ 

The Count started visibly. 

“ Of course not. Have I not told you repeatedly 
that the boy died soon after he was taken from his 
mother ? ” 

You lie, Count de Menoz ! 

Many thanks, sister, for your pleasant words.’^ 

The nun advanced a step, and fixed the Count’s 
wavering glance with her piercing eyes. 

“ I tell you, Count, that all these years you have 
lied to me, and the child Rodrigo did not die.” 

“ What proof have you that your statement is 
correct ? ” asked the Count. 

I have seen Rodrigo Valero.” 

The Count sprang to his feet in great excite- 
ment. Has General Borgia proved recreant to 
his trust ? ” he began. 

The nun gave her brother a look of scorn. “ No 
one told me, Pedro. My heart discovered your 
guilty secret. When first I saw Father Jerome 
Ortiz, it was like seeing Rodrigo and Manuel Va- 
lero in the freshness of their youth. And his eyes ! 
Santa Maria ! Dolores Valero looks forth from 
them. No one need confirm my suspicions. I 
know that Jerome Ortiz and the orphaned Rodrigo 
Valero are one and the same person.” 

‘‘Well, Isabel, since you are so positive about 
the matter, I may as well tell you that you have 


Il8 FATHER JEROME. 

made a correct guess. I told you that the child 
was dead, to ease your mind. I saw that the matter 
weighed heavily upon your conscience, and the 
holy fathers of the church decided that it was best 
to keep you in ignorance of the child’s where- 
abouts. Now you know all, so pray leave me in 
peace. You have nothing for which to reproach 
yourself. The child grew into a worthy youth and 
an ornament to the church. He is talented, and is 
bound to rise to eminence. He has been rescued 
from perdition, and saved for the church.” 

“ But my promise to his mother,” faltered the 
nun. 

“ A promise to a heretic is not binding, even 
when sealed with an oath. Who, in Catholic Spain, 
ever heard of keeping faith with a heretic ? You 
are a fool, Isabel, to allow your mind to dwell upon 
what transpired so many years ago. The priests 
have told you again and again, that your act was 
a blessed triumph of spiritual grace over carnal 
weakness. This useless repining I am sure they 
would censure as deadly sin.” 

The nun rose slowly to her feet. The yearning 
and unrest of a lifetime looked out from her hag- 
gard face. She had thrown aside her head-dress, 
and the short iron-gray locks made her look doubly 
old and worn. 

I am going now, Pedro. As I near the grave, 
I realize that we committed a terrible sin, and for 


THE NUN OF ST. CATHERINE. I IQ 

that we shall be terribly punished. I have known 
no peace since that day. My idols have been 
snatched from me, and bereft and alone I should 
be glad to die, were it not for the fires of purgatory. 
And do you mark my words. Count de Menoz. 
You need not think to escape the judgments of 
God. Sooner or later your sin will find you out.” 

Without a word of farewell. Sister Justina quietly 
left the room. 

“ Isabel grows daily more demented,” thought 
the Count. “ I must request the Abbess to confine 
her more closely. Her tongue may work mis- 
chief.” Count de Menoz was not a man given to 
weighing incidents very carefully, and the impres- 
sion made upon him by his sister’s visit soon faded 
from his mind in the press of stirring events. 

The weekly session in Father Cazalla’s quiet par- 
lor was unusually solemn. The Holy Inquisition, 
that name of terror, had been brought forcibly to 
the attention of the Lutherans of late by certain 
ominous signs, the significance of which could not 
be mistaken. 

Paul the Fourth, quick to scent heresy in any 
part of his pontifical domains, had issued a bull 
which he addressed to the Spanish Inquisitor Gen- 
eral. He enjoined upon this official to spare no 
efforts in the detection and extermination of 


120 


FATHER JEROME: 


heresy; and he empowered General Valdes to pun- 
ish all suspected persons of whatever rank or pro- 
fession, whether bishops, archbishops, nobles, 
kings, or emperors. King Philip followed up this 
mandate with a horrible edict, which condemned to 
the stake all who bought or sold or read heretical 
books. 

A few months later the pope issued another brief, 
in which he commanded all confessors, under pain 
of excommunication, to enjoin on their penitents 
to inform against all persons whom they suspected 
to be guilty of heresy. To quicken the zeal of in- 
formers, King Philip revived a law which had be- 
come a dead letter, by which the accuser should 
receive one fourth of the confiscated property of 
the accused. In this way, an arrogant pope and a 
cruel king played into each other's hands. While 
the former skilfully spread the net, the latter de- 
vised methods for driving fish therein. 

Another event occurred, which quickened appre- 
hension among the Lutherans. That ferocious prose- 
cutor of the Jews and Moors, Gonzales Munebraga, 
was promoted to the office of Vice Inquisitor Gen- 
eral. This man was peculiarly fitted. to become the 
mouthpiece of the Inquisition. He possessed a 
hard, cruel nature, and an overflowing measure of 
fanatical zeal. He ingeniously managed the terri- 
ble machinery under his control. Owing to the ad- 
vanced age and increasing infirmities of General 


THE NUN OF ST, CATHERINE, 


I2I 


Valdes, Munebraga became the fitting chief of a 
tribunal, which sat in darkness, and which dealt 
blows through invisible agents. His spies were 
everywhere abroad. They worked long and si- 
lently underground, laying mines which would one 
day be exploded, exterminating the enemies of the 
faith. 

A crisis was at hand. 

Quite a large number of converts had assembled 
in Father Cazalla’s parlor. After reading the Scrip- 
tures and offering a fervent prayer. Father Rojas 
said with profound sorrow, My brethren, I bring 
you terrible news. The storm has burst over the 
Lutheran church in Seville. Two hundred have 
been apprehended, and the arrests are still going 
on.” 

Groans and tears were the only responses to 
these words. 

“ Our brave little colporteur, Julian Hernandez, 
was the first one taken.” 

‘^Julian the Little, arrested !” said Dr. Sebas- 
tian. ‘‘ Ay de mi ! Perhaps the report is not 
true.” 

There can be no doubt about it. A blacksmith, 
to whom he showed a copy of the New Testament, 
betrayed him to the Inquisition. He is imprisoned 
in the Triana, that gloomy fortress, from the portals 
of which few ever pass except as they come forth 
to die. What horrible tortures he may be suffer- 


122 


FATHER JEROME. 


ing to-night, only God knows. We can but leave 
him in higher hands.” 

He knew all about our meetings. Will he not 
betray us ? ” said Juan Garcia in a trembling voice. 

“ No, a hundred times no ! ” replied Father Ca- 
zalla. “ That brave heart will never flinch. One 
word from his lips, and we are all doomed to the 
same awful fate. But that word will never be 
spoken. We do not. need to shed tears for our- 
selves. Let us weep for him, and pray God 
that his agony may be shortened. Of course no 
mercy will be shown so notorious a heretic. Death, 
in its most horrible form, will be his portion. But 
this is not all, my brethren. Twelve of the monks 
of San Isidro have fled.” 

Fled ! ” echoed his listeners in dismay. 

“ Yes. It seems that they held a solemn chapter 
to decide upon their future course of action. It 
was apparent that by leaving the monastery, the 
little church would be placed in dire peril. So they 
agreed to await God’s providence there. Later, 
twelve of their number came to feel that they could 
not conscientiously perform the mass and otherwise 
engage in the ceremonial of the church, and they 
made good their escape.” 

“ They certainly have saved themselves from the 
violence of the storm,” said Dr. Sebastian with a 
note of scorn in his voice. “ But what of the re- 
mainder of the brethren at San Isidro ? ” 


THE NUN OF ST. CATHERINE. 


123 


‘‘ Probably by this time they are under sentence 
of death. But let us not forget that they are in 
God’s hands, as well as ourselves. My brethren, 
let none of us be so rash as to seek his own indi- 
vidual safety in flight. The flight of one might be 
the ruin of all. It is upon the fidelity of each indi- 
vidual member that the safety of the church de- 
pends. God give each one of us strength to be 
faithful. I have also learned that the great and 
noble Fray Constantino has been arrested, as well 
as the leader of the infant church, Dr. Christobal 
Losada.” 

“ Oh, my friend, my friend ! ” said Dr. Sebastian 
in a broken voice. The noblest heads are ever 
the ones most likely to fall.” 

“ Let us not be disheartened,” continued Father 
Rojas. “If I did not believe that the Lord kept 
watch over the ship, I should long since have aban- 
doned the helm; but I see him through the storm, 
commanding the very winds. I confide entirely in 
his sovereign goodness. Let him govern ! Let 
him carry us forward ! Let him hasten or delay ! 
Let him plunge us even to the bottom of the deep 
— we will fear nothing. We are vessels that belong 
to him. He can make use of us as he pleases, for 
honor or for dishonor.” 

Then raising his hands he exclaimed, “ Oh, God, 
thine is the kingdom and thine is the power ! O 
Vine, abounding in sweetness and whose branches 


124 


FATHER JEROME. 


we are, do not abandon thy shoots ! For thou 
hast promised to be with us until the end of the 
world.” 

These words cheered the little company of dis- 
ciples, and when they separated, feelings of hope 
and courage predominated. The Lutherans in 
Valladolid had for so long a time held meetings 
within sight of the Holy House, and almost with 
open doors, that they had lost the timidity which 
had at first characterized their actions. Little did 
they dream that the sword of Damocles hung over 
their heads, suspended by a tiny thread, which a 
word, — a whisper, an incautious act, might suffice 
to break. Little did they dream, that the burning 
eyes of Juan Garcia’s faithless wife had that very 
night peered through a crack in the curtain, and 
that the devil in woman’s form had sped with swift 
feet to the House of the Jesuits. 


CHAPTER XII. 


THE STORY OF A LIFE. 

What is this I hear, dear brother Jerome ? 
said Father Ambrose a month after his assistant’s 
arrival, ‘‘ The relatives of Pepe the charcoal- 
burner have been here full of indignation. They 
say you refused the dying man absolution. How 
is this ? ” 

They speak truly,” replied Father Jerome. 

Pepe did not repent of his sins, but offered me 
all his money if I would grant him absolution. I 
plead with him to repent of his sins, and accept 
God’s pardon, which was free for the asking. He 
refused to do this, and I left him to die unshriven.” 

“ I am afraid you have not acted wisely, brother,” 
said the old priest. “ You seem to have a perilous 
way of tracing things out to their consequences, 
and I sometimes tremble for you.” 

Dear Father Ambrose, I will certainly try not 
to be rash, but I dare not teach the smallest lie. 
I feel that every truth that has come into my soul is 
like the talent which the steward received. It is 


125 


126 


FATHER JEROME, 


entrusted to me, and I must trade with it for the 
glory of God.” 

“ I am glad,” said his companion, “ that I never 
felt tempted to preach otherwise than the church 
directs, and I never dared to question her teach- 
ings. May the saints preserve your steps ! ” 

The short winter day was drawing to a close, 
when Father Jerome stepped into the little church 
to perform mass. The old priest was ailing, and 
this beloved duty fell upon the shoulders of the 
younger man. The room, which was bare and 
cheerless, was nearly full of worshippers. Father 
Jerome had won the hearts of the rude peasants by 
his plain words and self-sacrifice. As he stood in 
the pulpit, and surveyed his unlettered audience, 
his eye caught sight of a familiar face. The nun of 
St. Catherine was leaning forward, her sunken eyes 
fixed intently on his face. 

Within the building the daylight was fading and 
the faces of the congregation were indistinct. A 
shaft of light came from a window high in the wall 
and illumined the face of the youthful preacher. A 
great longing possessed him to tell the old, old 
story in such a way that peace might come to the 
troubled spirit of Sister Justina. Leaning forward, 
he said with pleading earnestness: 

Dear brothers and sisters, you want the for- 
giveness of sins. You have many times brought 
costly gifts to this church, and you have taken pil- 


THE STORY OF A LIFE. 


127 


grimages to distant shrines. You have made vows, 
and repeated prayers to Our Lady, in the vain hope 
of finding forgiveness. You will never find it in 
these ways. I tell you to-day, that the Son of Man 
hath power on earth to forgive sins, and he alone. 
Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners. 
The blood of Jesus Christ cleanseth from all sin. 
All ! To those burdened with sin, yearning for 
pardon and longing for reconciliation with God, I 
say, Christ alone saves, saves fully, saves freely, 
saves to the uttermost. On the rock of God’s eter- 
nal word, I take my stand. Heaven and earth shall 
pass away, but that word shall not pass away.” 

Yes, friends,” he concluded, his face irradiated 
with a look of tender triumph, “ there is One on 
whom we may look, and see God, and yet live ! 
On the face of our dear Lord ! Our dear Lord 1 ” 

A hush, as of death, pervaded the room. Every 
one present was thrilled with that mysterious, 
unique attraction, which the preaching of Jesus 
Christ ever inspires in the heart of sinning human- 
ity. Without adding another word Father Jerome 
pronounced the benediction, and the little company 
dispersed. When the young priest looked for the 
nun of St. Catherine, she had disappeared with the 
crowd. 

That night. Father Jerome was summoned to 
the cottage of one of the peasants to hear the con- 
fession of a stranger who was apparently dying. As 


128 


FATHER JEROME. 


he expected, he found Sister Justina lying on a 
rude couch. She had slipped on the ice returning 
from church, and had suffered internal injuries 
which seemed likely to prove fatal in one so old 
and feeble. It soon became evident to Father 
Jerome that the aged frame had been too rudely 
shaken to admit of any amendment, and the sands 
of life were running out with steady pace. 

He was impressed with the changed expression 
of the worn face. A calm, sweet look filled the 
sunken eyes. The young priest knelt by her side, 
and took one of her hands. 

“ What can I do for you. Sister ? ’’ 

“ The end is very near ! 

And are you afraid. Sister ? ” 

‘‘ No, Christ is with me, and he has cleansed my 
soul from all sin. How can I thank you enough 
for bringing me his message of pardon. But God 
will reward you. I have much to say to you. Father, 
and the time is short. The valley of death is less 
dark than my life-path has been for long weary 
years. I came here to warn you against impend- 
ing danger. The schoolmaster in Soria has been 
employed by the Jesuits as a spy, and he has carried 
ill reports to Father Padilla, and you will shortly 
be summoned to Valladolid to abjure your errors 
or suffer punishment. There is yet time for you to 
escape. I beg of you to fly.’’ 

The nun half rose from the bed, and laid her 




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VOUR NAME IS RODRIGO VALERO 


Page 129 



THE STORY OF A LIFE. 


129 


hand beseechingly on the priest’s arm. Fly ! ” 
she repeated. 

My trust is in God,” said Father Jerome. I 
do not fear what men may do unto me. Think no 
more of me, dear Sister. I will consider your words 
later. Before your strength fails, tell me what is 
in your heart, for the time is near when the sum- 
mons will come which no one dares disobey.’^ 
Sister Justina sank back exhausted. Then rally- 
ing her feeble energies she began: ^ 

am about to tell you. Father, the story of 
your life, for that story is closely interwoven with 
my own. Your name is Rodrigo Valero, and you 
were born in Seville. You were the only child of 
Manuel and Dolores Valero. Your uncle was that 
great apostate and martyr, Rodrigo Valero, for 
whom you were named. You have seen his san 
benito in the cathedral at Seville, and the smaller 
one beside it was worn by your father. 

After your uncle Rodrigo was publicly de- 
nounced as a heretic, your father received a sum- 
mons from the Corregidor of Valladolid, directing 
him to repair immediately to that city, as a mission 
of importance was about to be entrusted to him. 
Suspecting nothing, your father undertook the 
journey. How well I remember how proud your 
beautiful mother looked that summer day, as she 
raised you in her arms for you to receive your 
father’s parting caress. Dolores never saw her 


130 FATHER JEROME, 

husband again. All sorts of stories were afloat con- 
cerning his fate, but no one could give any reliable 
information. He vanished as mysteriously as 
though the earth had opened and engulfed him. 

‘‘ In the Valero household were a half brother 
and sister by the name of de Menoz, children of 
Count Valero’s second wife. They were both mar- 
ried, and each had a son. They were both proud 
and ambitious. After the name of Valero had be- 
come a name of infamy, they wanted it forgotten. 
They also wanted their children to inherit the 
princely estates of that noble house. A little child 
of three years stood between them and their plans, 
but not for long. A priest suggested that it be 
taken from its mother, and placed under the care 
of the church to be educated for the priesthood. 

“ A bargain was made, whereby part of the 
estate was to be given to the church and the rest 
was to be ours. I was ambitious for my son, and 
I grasped eagerly at the idea, and upon me de- 
volved the cruel task of winning the child from his 
mother. I had always been kind to Dolores and 
she trusted me. One day I asked her if the child 
might accompany me to a festival. She readily 
gave her consent. ‘ Bring him back early, Isabel,’ 
she said as she brushed your curls and placed a 
velvet cap on your pretty head. 

'' ' I shall not fail to bring him back at nightfall,’ 
I answered with mental reservations^ not daring to 


THE STORY OF A LIFE. 


31 


meet the mother’s eyes for fear she would discover 
my secret. I took the boy and carried him to a 
convent, where he was to remain until old enough 
to attend school. It was some days before I saw 
Dolores. My servants put her off, telling her that 
I had gone into the country for a few days to give 
the child a little outing. 

At last I saw her, and told her the awful truth. 
She turned as white as the driven snow, but not a 
word of reproach escaped her lips. She simply 
lifted her sad eyes to heaven and murmured, 
‘ Father, forgive her ! She has broken my heart ! ’ 

“ I felt no pity for her, because the priests said she 
was a heretic, and that it was an act of piety for me 
to snatch the boy from his evil surroundings. 
Wretch that I was, I even dared to think that I 
was doing God service by this act of treachery. 

“ From this day, Dolores pined away, and soon 
grew so weak that she could not leave her bed. 
One day a Dominican priest rode to the house. He 
remained in her room about half an hour. I was 
in the house at the time, and suddenly a shriek was 
heard, and then another ! My God ! it rings in my 
ears to-day. That wretch was adding the last drop 
of anguish to her already overfilled cup. He told 
her that her husband was incarcerated for life in the 
prison of the Inquisition at Valladolid.” 

“ Is he still living ? ” said Father Jerome, his 
features drawn as in pain. 


132 


FATHER JEROME, 


‘‘ I do not know. I have never been able to 
learn a word about him since that time. Let us 
pray not. Santo Cristo ! Twenty years in the 
prison of the Inquisition ! He could not have sur- 
vived so terrible a fate ! ” 

Go on ! ” said Father Jerome in a hoarse voice. 
“ Let me know all ! 

Your mother never rallied from this death- 
blow. In less than a month she died. But God did 
not forget my sin. He dealt with me as I had dealt 
with Dolores. My husband died in battle. My 
son, whom I idolized, was thrown from his horse 
and instantly killed. Crushed in spirit, I sought 
refuge in the convent of St. Catherine. Count de 
Menoz, seeing how my broken promise to Dolores 
weighed on my mind, came to me one day and told 
me that little Rodrigo was dead. A weight seemed 
lifted from my soul. Surely, I thought, Dolores 
has the little lad again. 

When I saw you at the festival of Our Lady 
at Saragossa, your striking likeness to your father 
and uncle attracted my attention. Your eyes were 
wonderfully like your mother’s. Anguish filled my 
soul. I began to doubt my brother’s story. After 
meeting you again at Seville, I went to see Count 
de Menoz and demanded the truth. He confessed 
that Father Ortiz and Rodrigo Valero were one 
and the same person. 

“ My story of sin and shame is ended. For more 


THE STORY OF A LIFE. 


133 


than forty years I have known no rest. The sad 
face of your mother has ever been before my eyes. 
Blood-guiltiness has been upon my soul. To-day, 
for the first time, I have tasted peace. Your words 
have brought hope to one who has known only 
despair. Jesus forgives sinners. He will forgive 
me. My deeply injured Rodrigo, can you — forgive 
— me — too ? ” 

The words came in gasps. The light from an- 
other world was on the dying face. The Sister’s 
eyes looked imploringly into those of the young 
priest. 

My poor Aunt Isabel ! ” answered Father 
Jerome with tenderness, as I hope to be forgiven 
myself, so do I forgive you.” He stooped and 
kissed the wrinkled brow. 

“ One word more, Rodrigo,” she gasped. “ The 
motto of the house of Valero was this, ‘ Rather 
death, than false of faith.’ Keep it sacred, as did 
your uncle and your father.” A look of joy passed 
over the face of the dying nun. Peace, — forgive- 
ness,” she murmured. Then the mournful eyes 
closed for the last time on the light of this world. 

Sister Justina, sinning but repentant, was num- 
bered with the dead. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


THE WAY OF THE CROSS. 

The body of the dead nun was conveyed to St. 
Catherine, and interred in the convent burying- 
ground. 

Two days later a lay brother from the House of 
the Jesuits came post-haste to Soria, with a mes- 
sage from the Superior, requesting Father Jerome’s 
immediate return to Valladolid. 

When Father Ambrose learned this, he shook 
his head. 

'' There is trouble brewing, my son. I advise 
you to make good your escape.” 

“ That is out of the question, dear Father. I am 
free to confess, that after Sister Justina’s startling 
revelations, an almost uncontrollable impulse 
seized me to seek safety in flight. But directly, my 
reason told me that this was a vain desire. Is it 
not more than likely that the burning eyes of the 
Inquisition are even now turned upon me, and 
without doubt every mode of egress is sedulously 
guarded — to say nothing of the Hermandad, that 
vigilant body of civil police, who are ever ready 

134 


THE WAY OF THE CROSS. 


135 


to co-operate with the authorities of the church ? 
No, Father Ambrose, it is impossible for me to es- 
cape my fate. I am hedged in. Mark well the 
actions of the schoolmaster. He dogs my steps 
and anticipates my every movement. 

“ Yet were the way open for my escape, should 
I be justified in breaking my pledge to Father 
Padilla ? Because the priests- have broken faith 
with me and mine, is this any reason why I should 
commit perjury ? There is no honorable course 
open to me except to return, and meet my fate. 
God will take care of me. I am going now to the 
church.” 

A long time Father Jerome knelt before the altar 
praying for strength. Although but few words 
came to his lips, his spirit found relief in the simple 
attitude of prayer. Unconsciously his lips framed 
the words of David’s prayer: “ Whom have I in 
heaven but thee ? and there is none upon earth 
that I desire beside thee. My flesh and my heart 
faileth, but God is the strength of my heart and 
my portion forever.” Rising from his knees he 
slowly left the church. He bethought himself of a 
sick peasant whom he must visit ere he left Soria. 
He was surprised to find a carriage at the door of 
the humble cottage. He went inside and found 
himself face to face with Dona Irene Sebastian. 
Impulsively, joyously, he sprang forward, his face 
aglow with pleasure. 


136 


FATHER JEROME. 


'' Dona Sebastian, God has granted my last re- 
quest, in that he has permitted me to look upon 
your face once more before I go to certain death.” 

“ What do you mean ? ” asked the girl, her face 
becoming as white as a snowdrop. 

‘‘ The Superior has commanded my immediate 
presence at the House of the Jesuits. I am about 
to return to Valladolid to break the shackles which 
have bound me to the Order of Jesus, and to avow 
myself a Lutheran.” 

“ Oh, do not go back,” cried Doha Irene, lay- 
ing her hand on the priest’s arm. “ Why do you 
not flee the country ? ” 

‘‘ Tempt me not, Doha, with such enticing 
words. From your lips I could not withstand 
them. I must face the consequences of my acts 
like a man. I have already ventured too much for 
Christ’s sake, not to be willing at his call to ven- 
ture a little more.” 

“ Grant me your blessing,” faltered the maiden, 
the tears coursing down her pale cheeks. 

Father Jerome gazed into that eloquent face a mo- 
ment, then he said with repressed emotion, Doha 
Sebastian, I have a confession to make to you. 
Standing so near death, I do not feel that it is 
wrong to avow my love for you. Ever since I met 
you at the festival of Our Lady at Saragossa I have 
loved you secretly. On my knees I have fought 
against this passion, but it remained unsubdued. I 


THE WA Y OF THE CROSS. 




have struggled to conceal it, but I have been over- 
powered in the contest. I am certain of one thing 
now. It is not wrong for me to love you. God is 
love, and all true, pure love is God’s gift to us. 
Our Father made it so, when he made ‘ all things 
well.’ The church of Rome demands the renun- 
ciation of every tender human tie, but I believe it 
is wrong. The gracious, loving God whom we 
serve delights in the happiness of his children. 
Therefore before taking a last farewell, dear heart, 
I desire to let you know how dearly you are be- 
loved.” 

A faint blush sufYused the maiden’s cheek as she 
replied with trembling lips, A knowledge of your 
love. Father Jerome, will enrich my whole life.” 
Then with a piteous cry she added, How can I 
live without you ! ” 

“ My beloved,” said the priest tenderly, ‘‘God 
calls me to die for Christ’s sake. He bids you live 
for him. Weep not, but rather pray that God may 
enable us both to endure hardness as good soldiers 
of Jesus Christ; and may his richest blessing rest 
upon you evermore.” 

Dr. Sebastian now entered the room, and his 
presence and that of his daughter were soon ex- 
plained. He had been called to Soria on consulta- 
tion. Dr. Sebastian could not find words enough 
to express his admiration, when he learned that 
Father Jerome was about to return voluntarily to 


38 


FA THE JEROME. 


the House of the Jesuits, there to stand trial for 
heresy. 

“ It is truly an honor to be accounted worthy to 
suffer for Christ, and how soon the summons may 
come nearer home, I know not. We are all living 
under the shadow of that grim old fortress, where 
the Holy Inquisition holds its terrible secret tri- 
bunal. Daughter, it is growing late. We must re- 
turn.” 

Father Jerome shook hands with the doctor. 
Then he grasped both the hands of the young girl, 
who trembled beneath his touch. The agonized 
look on both of those young faces was not lost on 
the elder man. Comprehending the situation at a 
glance, he quietly stepped from the room. 

‘^Beloved,” said Father Jerome. “Until the 
hand of death lies cold upon my heart, until we 
both meet in God’s heaven — who loves us and 
made us to love — till then I shall not cease to love 
you forevermore.” 

His frame shook with the intensity of his emo- 
tions. He gave her one long lingering embrace, 
and without another word left her alone. 

To Dona Sebastian it seemed as though the old 
sweet life had ended, and a new life, full of bitter- 
ness and pain, had begun. 

^ ^ ^ ^ 

While these incidents were transpiring in this lit- 


THE WAY OF THE CROSS. 


139 


tie hamlet, Father Padilla was storming with rage 
in his library. 

“ Fool ! Idiot ! ” he exclaimed. “ Did he not 
know any better than to bring disgrace upon the 
House of the Jesuits ? ” 

“ I always suspected that he was a heretic at 
heart,” said Father Gregory, “ but I did not think 
he would dare to come out and preach Lutheran 
sermons. Do you think he will obey your sum- 
mons ? ” 

“ Certainly. Father Jerome has honorable in- 
stincts, and I have his word that he will return.” 

“ What shall you do with him ? ” 

Make him abjure his errors. If he refuses, I 
shall send him to the Holy House.” 

It would be an easier way not to allow the 
young heretic to return,” said the prior with a ma- 
licious look. 

“ Father Gregory ? ” 

Father Padilla ! 

The two Jesuits measured each other in silence. 

‘‘ Explain yourself ! ” said the Superior. '' Vour 
words are enigmatical.” 

The prior resumed: “The dead tell no tales, 
your reverence. If Father Jerome should accident- 
ally fall from one of those icy bridges which span 
the mountain torrent, we should be spared a great 
deal of trouble and disgrace. Is my meaning plain, 
your reverence ? ” 


140 


f'ATHER JEROME. 


Father Padilla stared thoughtfully into the fire 
for several moments. 

“ Can the affair be safely entrusted to your hands, 
Father Gregory ? ” 

It can, your reverence.” 

At length the Superior said deliberately, The 
honor of the House of the Jesuits must be pre- 
served inviolate at any cost. The end justifies the 
means. The cause of the Order of Jesus is the 
cause of our Holy Church. Whatever sin is com- 
mitted for her welfare, she will absolve. You have 
my permission to execute your plan.. Do you un- 
derstand me ? ” 

“ Perfectly, your reverence.” 

Then you may retire.” 


CHAPTER XIV. 


WEIGHED AND WANTING. 

The family of Count de Menoz were at dinner. 
Don Enrique had at last received a government 
office, and now rejoiced in all the honors and 
emoluments which the title, Empleado/' brought. 
Don Alfonso was still his uncle’s private secretary. 
The Count was a little late, and when he finally 
came in and sat down at the table his face wore a 
dark frown. 

“ Any news, father ? ” inquired Enrique. 

I should say so,” replied the Count, setting 
down his cup of thick chocolate. What do you 
think ? A Lutheran church has been discovered 
in our very midst. I wish the devil would take 
these dogs of heretics who are turning the city up- 
side down.” 

“ I should think the devil might take care of his 
own,” replied Enrique. '' Say you not so, cousin ? ” 

Alfonso turned pale but made no answer. The 
Count regarded his nephew in wrathful silence. 

Are there many arrests ? ” inquired the Dona 
Consuelo, hoping to divert her stepfather’s atten- 
tion from the unlucky Alfonso. 


142 


FATHER JEROME. 


‘‘ Several hundred, I believe. There are three or 
four priests taken. Augustin, Pedro, and Francisco 
de Cazalla, and Domingo de Rojas. 

“ I am willing that all the priests in all the Spains 
should be cast into the prisons of the Inquisition,” 
remarked Don Enrique irreverently. 

The Count continued, There was a silversmith, 
Juan Garcia, arrested, and a lot of other beggarly 
tradesfolk.” 

No one cares for such rot as those,” said the 
Doha Inez with a curl of her lips. 

So far, there are only two arrests of gentlemen 
of rank. The Don Carlos de Seso and the advocate 
Don Antonio Herezuelo. Just think of the Cor- 
regidor of Toro being thus degraded ! But the 
worst remains to be told : seven nuns from San 
Belen, the Doha Ana Rojas, Doha Beatriz Cazalla, 
and the Doha Isabella, wife of the Don Carlos de 
Seso, are also arrested.” 

'' This is quite a different matter ! ” exclaimed 
the chivalrous Enrique. When it comes to send- 
ing ladies of rank to prison, I say the matter has 
gone too far.” 

“ Horrible ! ” cried Doha Consuelo. “ Why, the 
Doha Isabella has the royal blood of Castile in her 
' veins ! ” 

Who among us fair ladies will now be safe ? ” 
said the Doha Inez. 

‘‘ At least you will see, children,” said the Count, 


WEIGHED AND WANTING. 1 43 

that the Holy Inquisition is no respecter of per- 
sons. Wherever she finds heresy, she crushes it, 
be it in palace or hovel. If these noble ladies saw 
fit to imbibe the loathsome doctrines of Luther and 
Calvin, they must expect to be treated like crimi- 
nals. 

“ By the way, the church is about to celebrate 
a holy festival of consecration, to purge the city 
from this plague of heresy and to confirm the faith- 
ful. It is my earnest wish, nay more, my express 
command, that every member of my family attend 
this service, which will be observed this day week.’’ 

Rising from the table, he turned to his nephew 
and said, Be so kind as to accompany me at once 
to my office.” There was a note of displeasure in 
his tones, which all his listeners observed. 

When Don Alfonso entered his uncle’s room, he 
found him pacing the room. 

I see that I have incurred your anger, sehor 
uncle,” began Alfonso. 

“ That you have, you young rascal. I am in- 
formed that you have many times been seen in con- 
versation with the Don Carlos de Seso, and that 
you have been intimate with that renegade monk. 
Father Jerome Ortiz, who has been arrested for 
heresy.” 

'' Father Jerome arrested ! ” gasped Alfonso, sick 
at heart at this fearful news. 

‘‘ To be sure he is, and unless he makes a speedy 


144 


FATHER JEROME, 


abjuration, he is to be handed over to the Inquisi- 
tion.’’ 

“ Santo Cristo ! ” murmured the unhappy Al- 
fonso. 

“ See here, nephew ! ” cried the irate Count. 
“ Do not waste any more sympathy on that 
wretched monk. Save a little for me. What do 
you think of an Inquisitor, a Count de Menillo, 
harboring a suspected person under his roof ? ” 

If my presence has become offensive, sehor 
uncle, I will do myself the honor of thanking you 
for your past kindnesses, and will leave your house 
at once. I certainly do not wish to remain where 
I am not wanted.” 

“ Do not be impudent, you young fool,” cried 
the Count. “ For the sake of my own fair name 
you shall not leave this house. But I can tell you 
one thing ! Were your name not ^ de Menillo ’ I 
would not lift my finger to save you from the fire. 
If you have tampered with heresy, you deserve to 
get scorched. At the same time, I will not have 
every cur barking at my heels when I go out, nor 
our honorable name dragged through the mire.” 

“ I should like to say to you, sehor uncle,” — 

“ I will not listen to a single word from your 
lips. I do not wish to know how far your insanity 
has led you.” Then he added in a gentler tone, 

If you will listen to reason, all may yet be well. 
I have a government office almost within my reach, 


WEIGHED AND WANTING, 


145 


and if you redeem yourself you may yet secure the 
place. Above all, please remember that the Doha 
Consuelo will not be allowed to wed a heretic. You 
icnow the size of the cloth; cut your garment ac- 
cordingly.’' With these words he motioned the 
young man away. The Count de Menoz was an- 
nounced, and remained closeted with his brother 
Inquisitor for more than an hour. 

Don Alfonso was only too glad to receive his dis- 
missal. He at once sought the society of his lady 
love. He passed through the marble-paved patio 
or open court, and entered a small room, ex- 
quisitely appointed, which his cousin used for her 
reception-room. 

She was seated before a beautiful inlaid table, 
writing. Several books were lying on the table. 
Don Alfonso stood for a moment contemplating 
the well-rounded supple figure, the firmly poised 
head, and brilliant complexion of the maiden be- 
fore him. Then he said softly, 

“ Amiga mia ! ” 

The Dona Consuelo looked up with a bright 
smile, and said in a wondrously clear, magnetic 
voice, “ Welcome, my cousin.” 

The young man rehearsed his trouble to atten- 
tive ears. 

The matter is even more serious than I 
thought,” said the lady. “ Why could you not 
have remained a good Catholic, outwardly at least? 


FATHER JEROME. 


146 

To tell the truth, cousin, I think none too highly 
of the dogmas of the church, but I do not wish to 
make a martyr of myself. I aspire not to such 
heights of sanctity, not I ! Doha Sebastian and I 
have had many talks together on the subject, but 
I told her that I should stand by the Catholic faith, 
if for no other reason than that I might possibly 
be able to serve my friends when they got into 
trouble.” 

I do not see, Doha, how I can comply with 
your father’s request, and attend that festival of 
consecration,” said Don Alfonso hesitatingly. 

Really it is against my principles.” 

Doha Consuelo looked at her lover, half pity- 
ingly, half admiringly. “ Of a truth,” she said at 
length, the conscience of a heretic is of all things 
most difficult to comprehend. You strain at a gnat, 
and swallow a camel. But one thing is settled: 
you must attend that festival.” 

Seeing that the young man was about to remon- 
strate, she laid her hand appealingly on his arm. 

'' If you have a spark of love for me, Alfonso, 
you will not refuse.” 

You are the light of my eyes, Doha. I could 
kneel and kiss your feet,” protested the ardent 
suitor. 

“ Then grant me this simple request, as a proof 
of your love.” 

'' Very well, dearest lady, be it as you wish. Truly 


WEIGHED AND WANTING. 


147 


I do not desire to anger your father to that extent 
that he refuse me your hand.” 

‘‘ Promise me one more thing, dear Alfonso. Do 
not by word, or deed, or look even, place your 
precious life in jeopardy. Should you be arrested, 
I swear by all the saints in the calendar that I will 
declare myself a heretic and share your fate.” 

Gazing into those flashing eyes, and seeing the 
look of resolution about that imperious mouth and 
chin, Don Alfonso felt that she would be as good 
as her word. What suitor could resist so beautiful 
a pleader ? Surely not Don Alfonso de Menillo. 
With her love, the Dona Consuelo had woven a 
chain about the young man’s neck, as slender as 
the finest floss, but as strong as steel. 

I promise, dearest lady. Surely life just now 
is too full of promise, for me to cast it lightly 
away.” Don Alfonso stooped and gallantly kissed 
the fair hand. 

Nor did the young nobleman dream that he was 
doing a cowardly or an unknightly thing, in prom- 
ising to keep his faith a secret. The religion of 
Jesus was to him simply a set of dogmas. He had 
never accepted Christ as a personal Saviour. Se- 
crecy meant to him the concealing of an opinion, 
not the denying of a friend. Bred like all Spaniards 
in the school of intrigue, his moral sense was not 
very sensitive. It is so easy to make a course of 


148 


FATHER JEROME. 


action seem right, when it is the one which lies 
nearest the heart. 

“You had better leave me now, Don Alfonso. 
I hear the Count de Menoz just going, and it would 
not be best for father to know that you had been 
talking matters over with me.’’ 

“ I obey you in all things, life of my life,’' replied 
Don Alfonso. 

As Dona Consuelo was passing through the hall, 
a short time afterwards, she saw a folded paper on 
the floor. Evidently Count de Menoz had dropped 
it. She opened it and looked at the contents. A 
cry of dismay burst from her lips. The paper con- 
tained a list of names of those who were to be ar- 
rested for heresy, and on the list were the names 
of Dr. Sebastian and his daughter. 

“ Don Luis de Menoz is taking sweet revenge 
on Doha Irene for her refusal of his hand,” thought 
Consuelo. “ My friends must be warned.” 

Calling an old and tried family servant, she said, 
“ My faithful Juan, can you carry a note swiftly to 
Doha Sebastian, and leave no one the wiser for 
your errand ? ” 

“ I can, gracious Doha.” 

“ And mind one thing,” she added; “ keep clear 
of the Alguazils.” 

“ That I. will, Doha, as I would the devil him- 
self,” muttered the old man under his breath. 

Scarcely had Juan departed on his errand, when 


WEIGHED AND WANTING. 


149 


the Count de Menoz returned to search for the 
missing paper. His look of bold admiration filled 
the mind of Dona Consuelo with foreboding. The 
Count remained with his brother Inquisitor some 
little time, and as he raised his voice she distinctly 
heard him say, After the feast of consecration I 
will formally request the hand of your stepdaughter 
in marriage.’’ 

Here was an unlooked-for dilemma. Dona Con- 
suelo fled to her room to meditate on the threaten- 
ing catastrophe. There remained a week in which 
to plan, — and to act. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE VISIT OF THE ALGUAZILS. 

Every life has its crises. The real milestones in 
our experience are often the ones the biographer 
fails to record. It is not the sudden bereavement 
which tests one’s strength of character, but the 
months of loneliness which follow; not the on- 
slaught of disease, but the tedious hours of con- 
valescence. To take up the duties of life, and to 
go forward cheerfully when the heart feels like 
breaking with its weight of anguish, this is heroism. 

Such a crisis had come into the life of Doha Irene 
Sebastian. 

But this great sorrow was a blessing in disguise, 
for it served to drive her closer to the source of 
Infinite Love. In her darkest hours, with childlike 
faith she was able to cling confidingly to the Hand 
which had plucked the sweetest flower from her 
pathway. She was content to walk in the shadow, 
for she knew that One was beside her whose love 
knows neither variableness nor shadow of turning. 

When Dr. Sebastian realized that he had lost his 
merry light-hearted daughter and saw in her place 

150 


7'HE VISIT OF THE ALGUAZILS, 


151 


a quiet thoughtful woman, he cherished a feeling 
of resentment against Father Ortiz for revealing his 
passion. Then glancing again at that sweet Ma- 
donna-like face, he questioned whether he should 
have done any better, had he been in the young 
man’s place. 

No word relating to Father Jerome’s fate had 
reached their ears, and no one ventured to inquire 
after him, as it would have excited suspicion to 
show interest in so noted a heretic. 

About this time, the King’s post brought a cheer- 
ing letter from the invalid Carlos. It was as fol- 
lows: 

‘‘ Dear Father and Sister : Your hearts will 
be rejoiced to learn that I am steadily gaining 
health and strength. To-day I walked a few steps 
with the aid of crutches. The doctors believe that 
I shall ultimately recover. I have had the best of 
care, and the most devoted of nurses. A young 
Huguenot rnaiden (Sister Margaret they call her at 
the hospital) has taken care of me, and no one 
could have enjoyed more sympathetic attention. 
To know her is to love her. Under God, I am in- 
debted to her for another gift more precious even 
than health, the gift of eternal life. Do you recall 
how I scoffed at father, when on his return from 
the festival of Our Lady at Saragossa he said to 
me, ‘ A healed soul is of infinitely more value than 


FATHER JEROME, 


I$2 

a healed body.’ ? I can now realize the truth of 
his words. I now rejoice in God my Saviour, and 
my chief desire is to win souls for him. If I regain 
the use of my limbs, I desire to become a preacher 
of this blessed gospel. I long to see you all again, 
for we are now indeed a family in Christ, united by 
dearer and holier ties than those of kinship. I learn 
with sorrow of the persecution of the Lutherans in 
Spain, and I tremble for your safety. They say in 
France, that if the Emperor Carlos ‘ chastised the 
people with a scourge, the son Felipe holds a whip 
of scorpions.’ I suffer the keenest anxiety on your 
account. Inform me of the situation and of your 
safety, at your earliest convenience. 

“ I can never thank you sufficiently for the lov- 
ing care which you have bestowed so freely on your 
poor Carlos, — thank God ! poor no longer. 

“ Your devoted son and brother, 

“ Carlos.” 

While Dona Irene was perusing this letter the 
second time, the door opened and Mother Ursula 
came in bearing a note in her hands. 

“ The Count de Menillo’s servant brought this 
note, Doha Irene, and he bade me request you to 
read it without delay.” 

The lady opened the missive and read in her 
friend’s handwriting the following: 

“ You and your father are suspected of heresy. 


THE VISIT OF THE ALGUAZILS. 


153 


Hide at once. The Alguazils are on your track. 
Destroy this.’' 

For a moment, Doha Irene’s brain reeled in hor- 
ror. At this distance from the Inquisition, we can 
but faintly picture the terror which the word “ Al- 
guazil ” struck to the stoutest hearts. Familiars 
walking in pairs, and carrying lanterns, stalked 
abroad nightly seeking for unwary victims. Those 
who saw them coming gave them a wide berth, and 
when it became generally known that these prome- 
nades were of nightly occurrence, but few persons 
left their homes after dark. 

Thoughts gather swiftly in moments of peril; one 
can live a lifetime in a second. After the first shock 
produced by this terrible warning, Doha Irene 
quickly collected her scattered wits. First she de- 
stroyed the note, and then she sought the house- 
keeper. 

Dear Mother Ursula, I have sad news for you. 
Father and I are under suspicion, and the Alguazils 
are seeking us. We must hide at once.” 

“ Holy Virgin ! ” cried Ursula, wringing her 
hands in distress. To think that I should live to 
see my noble master and his daughter suspected 
of heresy. Ay de mi ! Truly the world is turning 
upside down ! ” 

Now, Ursula,” continued Irene, ‘‘ there is in 
this house a secret room, of whose existence no one 
knows excepting father and myself. We have care- 


154 


FATHER JEROME. 


fully kept the knowledge from our servants, so that 
if they were ever questioned they could truthfully 
claim ignorance of our whereabouts. When father 
comes in, tell him I am safe. God grant he may 
reach home before the Alguazils visit the house. 
Good bye, for a short time ! ” 

Irene ran swiftly upstairs. The house which Dr. 
Sebastian occupied had many years ago been the 
residence of a Moorish merchant of some conse- 
quence. When the doctor had some necessary 
repairs made on the building, the carpenter discov- 
ered the existence of the secret chamber. He 
promised to keep the matter to himself. The en- 
trance to this room was gained ^through a clothes- 
press. This closet was sheathed to the ceiling, as 
were all the closets in the house. Indeed a large 
part of the house was wainscoted. High up in the 
wall was a small door, and when this was slid back, 
a man by getting on his hands and knees could 
crawl through. Beyond this was a room about six 
feet high, having one tiny window in the roof. In 
anticipation of a time of need, the room had been 
furnished with books, writing materials, rugs, two 
chairs, a couch, a table, and a large lamp filled with 
olive oil. There was also a goodly supply of wine, 
dried fruits, and biscuits. The door to this room 
could be reached only by a ladder, and one made of 
rope was fastened to a hook under some clothing. 
Irene climbed into the loft without any trouble, and 


THE VISIT OF THE ALGUAZILS. 


155 


awaited her father’s return with a great deal of 
anxiety. 

It was not long before Dr. Sebastian returned. 
He had only removed his cloak and cap and passed 
upstairs to his room when Ursula met him with 
the words, “ The Alguazils are coming ! Irene is 
safe ! ” when the door opened noiselessly, and two 
of these dreaded Familiars entered. They were 
clad in long loose black robes, and wore cowls 
in which eyelets were cut, so that the wearer could 
see out, while his own identity remained unknown. 

“ Good evening, gentlemen ! ” said the doctor 
cheerfully. “ May I inquire your business ? ” 

'‘We are sorry to disturb you, sehor doctor, but 
we have been sent to arrest both you and your 
daughter.” 

“ Where is the Doha Irene ? ” said the doctor to 
Ursula. 

The reply came without hesitation: " I do not 
know. She went out some time since and has not 
returned.” 

The doctor turned to the Alguazils. “ Please al- 
low me to examine your warrant, gentlemen.” 

The official document was produced, properly 
drawn up and duly attested and sealed with the 
famous seal of the Inquisition — the olive branch 
and the flaming sword; and over these were the 
words " Misericordia et justitia.” We marvel that 
these letters of gold did not turn black with shame, 


156 


FATHER JEROME. 


at being so sadly perverted and made to subserve 
such unhallowed ends. 

'' Now, gentlemen,” continued the doctor, ‘‘ I 
have just come from a house which is full of pesti- 
lence. If you will permit me to pass into the next 
room and change my clothing, I will be ready to 
accompany you. I feel confident that I can estab- 
lish my innocence and that of my daughter.” 

“ I see no objection to granting your request, 
sehor doctor,” said one of the Alguazils, “ if you 
will leave the door ajar. Meanwhile we will exam- 
ine this room, to see if we can find any objection- 
able documents or books.” 

Dr. Sebastian left the room, and entered the 
clothes-press. He climbed the ladder as nimbly as 
a boy, and tapped gently with his fingers three 
times, a signal which his daughter understood. In 
less time than it has taken to write the account, the 
doctor had entered the secret room and drawn the 
ladder after him. 

The Alguazils went leisurely from one cupboard 
to another, but nothing of a suspicious character 
was found. The prudent Ursula had some days be- 
fore spirited away the Bibles, hymn-books, and 
pamphlets which were the dearest treasures of the 
household. 

It seems to me it takes the sehor doctor a long 
time to make his toilet,” remarked one of the Fa- 


THE VISIT OF THE ALGUAZILS. 1 57 

miliars. His companion pushed open the door and 
entered the room. It was empty ! 

“ The bird seems to have flown ! Here, woman,” 
he said sternly to the trembling housekeeper, tell 
us where your master has gone ? ” 

“ I do not know, your reverences.” 

One of the Familiars took up his crucifix, and 
advancing toward Ursula, said: 

Kneel ! ” 

She obeyed. 

Now swear by this holy symbol that you do not 
know where Dr. Sebastian and his daughter are 
hiding.” 

The housekeeper took the required oath. 

She is speaking the truth ! ” said one of the 
Alguazils in a low voice to his companion. 

“ We seem to have been outwitted. Sooner or 
later we shall bag our game.” 

After making a careful search of the room in 
which the fugitive had disappeared, the Alguazils 
finally contented themselves with affixing the royal 
seal to the house, and then took their departure. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM. 

Late in the afternoon of a short winter day a 
traveller might have been seen walking rapidly in 
the direction of Soria. It was one of those mild 
days which sometimes fall into the winter and 
which are a harbinger of spring. 

The traveller met but few people: only a char- 
coal-burner and two muleteers who were returning 
to the city with their pack-mules. They were sit- 
ting sideways on the hindermost animal, and sing- 
ing a wild song of wrong and hate and revenge, 
the songs which have ever been sung by a proud 
but conquered people. The traveller listened in- 
tently. The wild fierce strain fell in with his mood. 

“ Hate ! Revenge ! ” he murmured with set lips 
and flashing eyes. No fetters in the world are so 
strong as those which hate forges.” 

He fancied the muleteers looked at him curi- 
ously. He hurried along, casting furtive glances 
behind him as though he felt himself watched and 
followed. He drew his hand across his forehead. 
He felt as though the mark of Cain must be there, 
for had he not murder in his heart ? 


158 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM. 


159 


Suddenly he came to the Cristo de la Vega. It 
represented the crucifixion. Here was a life-size 
figure of Christ. One hand was nailed to the cross, 
and the other was raised as if recording something. 
The traveller started as though he had seen a ghost. 
He knew the legend well. A man had committed 
murder and his crime remained undiscovered. One 
day the murderer, in company with a party of 
friends, rode across the vega, stopping at this spot. 
No sooner had the assassin knelt before the cross, 
than the right hand of the Christ was lifted toward 
heaven, and a voice like a thunder-peal said, “ I am 
a witness ! ” The guilty man fainted, and when he 
came to his senses he confessed his crime, and paid 
the penalty. Ever since that time, the hand of the 
Christ has remained uplifted as a warning to guilty 
men that God is everywhere present, and that God 
punishes sin. 

With a muttered curse, the traveller sped by this 
hateful spot, and with purpose unchanged he 
neared the little hamlet of Soria. It was all a steady 
ascent now. The thaw had swollen the mountain 
torrents, and they dashed through the icy barriers 
carrying death and destruction in their course. 
Here at last was the old bridge over which Father 
Jerome must soon pass. 

I will await him here,” said the traveller, as he 
gazed like one fascinated at the dark foaming 
waters. 


l6o FA THER JEROME. 

He failed to see the wiry form of Christy the 
gypsy creeping out of the forest of pines and firs, 
creeping, creeping, stealthily along like a panther 
scenting his prey. For months he had been wait- 
ing for an opportunity to wreak his vengeance 
upon the man who had so grossly insulted his be- 
trothed. The traveller did not hear the rustle of 
the bushes, or the crackling of ice beneath the feet, 
so loudly did the raging current dash along. In 
the twinkling of an eye the traveller was hurled 
from the bridge. There were cries of agony, as a 
human being battled with the cruel waters. The 
mad, swirling stream caught him and tossed him 
about; it sported with him as though he were a 
plaything, then it swept him out of sight. The 
next morning, some peasants discovered the 
bruised and disfigured corpse of the Don Luis de 
Menoz, lying in the river meadows, some five miles 
from Soria. 

***** Jfc 

The Superior of the House of the Jesuits was 
seated in the library with General Borgia. The 
door opened suddenly, and the prior with scant 
ceremony begged Father Padilla to come into the 
hall a moment. 

‘‘Jerome awaits an audience with your rever- 
ence,’' was the startling announcement which he 
made. 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM. l6l 

Father Padilla changed color, but he did not lose 
his self-possession. 

'' Don Luis drowned, did you say ? Very likely 
he slipped from the bridge ! A sad accident truly ! 
The situation is embarrassing. Did any one know 
of your little scheme, excepting Don Luis ? ” 

No, your reverence.” 

Very good. Let us bury the incident fathoms 
deep, and never allude to it again. You may sum- 
mon Father Jerome to the library at once.” 

In a moment the recreant monk was in the pres- 
ence of his accusers. 

“ Traitor ! Heretic ! ” hissed Father Padilla be- 
tween his set teeth. What have you to say for 
yourself ? ” 

I have done nothing, your reverence, of which 
I am ashamed. My conscience approves my ac- 
tion.” 

“ Who taught you anything about conscience ? ” 
said General Borgia. “ The one word you should 
by this time be familiar with is obedience. You 
must be aware that you have violated the rules of 
the Order in a most flagrant manner. You have 
set at naught the words of our wise Father Igna- 
tius. Did he not foresee what poor fools he should- 
have to deal with when he gave these instructions: 

‘ Even if God had placed a senseless beast over you, 
you should not refuse to obey it as your guide and 
teacher, because God so ordered,' and again: 'If 


FATHER JEROME, 


162 

the Holy Church declares black is white, you must 
not believe your eyes, but the Church.’ Have you 
kept your vow ? You have done as all heretics 
do: you have presumed to place you petty intelli- 
gence above the commands of God, as revealed 
by his church. Do you know what we shall do with 
you, if you do not speedily abjure your errors and 
seek forgiveness and reconciliation ? We shall 
hand you over to the Inquisition, and they will con- 
demn you to death by fire.” 

Father Jerome’s face blanched at these terrible 
words, but he answered calmly, Your reverences, 
it is time that we understood each other. I know 
the whole story of deceit and fraud and cruel 
wrong which the church inflicted upon my uncle 
Rodrigo Valero, upon my parents, and upon my- 
self. I was forced to enter the priesthood, and if 
I have disgraced the Order, the blame is yours, not 
mine. God knows that I should have been glad, 
long ago, to shake off these galling fetters, if I 
could have done so honorably. But I have learned 
the truth at last, in spite of you all. I am no longer 
the slave of Rome. I am God’s freeman. My own 
eyes have read the Scriptures, and nothing can de- 
prive me of the blessed knowledge which you have 
striven to conceal from me. I stand on the rock 
of God’s eternal word, and tortures or threats or 
death itself can never shake my determination.” 

The expression on the young priest’s face had 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM, 


63 


undergone a change. The wavering, uncertain 
lines about the lips, which had perplexed General 
Borgia, became clearly outlined. The hand of fate 
had touched that secret writing, and made its hid- 
den meaning plain. The flashing eye and firmly 
closed lips revealed the existence of an inflexible 
will. Father Jerome had the look of a man to 
whom defeat is unknown — the man who could say, 
‘‘ I will, and I do not fear death ! ” 

The two Jesuits gazed at the youthful monk in 
astonishment. The words he had just uttered 
sounded very like those other wonderful words, 
“ God help me, I cannot do otherwise ! ” with 
which Luther stamped his name upon a whole 
generation — those immortal words which are the 
shout of deliverance to an oppressed and priest- 
ridden humanity. 

The Superior rang a bell sharply. Father 
Gregory answered the summons. 

Take this heretic,” said Father Padilla in 
hoarse tones, load him with chains, and cast him 
into the dungeon. Three days of grace he shall 
have. If at the expiration of that time he is not 
subdued, I will wash my hands of him.” 

As Father Gregory entered his own room he said 
to himself, Ah, my proud Father Jerome, you 
may whistle for a cardinal’s hat ! You thought to 
be an apostle of light! By the blessed St. Gregory 
for whom I was named, you shall yet be a light in 


164 


FATHER JEROME. 


the world, but it will be in the Quemadero outside 
the city gates.” 

:j; H: * * JK * 

The days passed swiftly to Doha Consuelo. For 
some reason best known to himself, the Count de 
Menillo had despatched his nephew to Toledo on 
business, and he was not expected to return until 
the eve of the great festival. 

In despair, Doha Consuelo resolved to take Doha 
Inez into her confidence. She was a brilliant, 
capricious creature, but withal, kind-hearted, and 
being just betrothed to the man of her choice, the 
Don Lope de Sandoval, her sympathies were natu- 
rally drawn toward the luckless lovers. 

“ I do not see what you want of that penniless 
scapegrace, sister Consuelo; but if your affections 
are centred on him, I will do the best I can to assist 
you.” 

Doha Inez was the incarnation of intrigue. The 
thought that a little drama was about to be enacted 
under the parental roof, requiring the utmost se- 
crecy and diplomacy, awakened her deepest inter- 
est. Don Lope entered heartily into the schemes 
of his betrothed. 

The night before the feast of the Corpus Domini, 
Don Alfonso returned. On the dressing-case in his 
room he found a billet. Opening it, he read the 
following: 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM. 1 65 

‘‘ ‘ Faint heart ne’er won fair lady ! ’ The beau- 
tiful Doha has been promised in marriage to the 
Count de Menoz. ' A leap over the ditch is worth 
another man’s prayer,’ so runs a good Spanish 
proverb. Act accordingly. 

“ Dona Inez.” 

The young man sought his cousin immediately, 
and begged her to render him the necessary assist- 
ance, for he would be only too glad to take that 
leap which should make his beloved lady his own. 
Together they matured their plans, and after prom- 
ising not to try to see the Doha Consuelo until he 
met her the next day at the shrine of St. Agnes, 
Don Alfonso retired to his own quarters full of 
pleasant anticipations. 

A cloudless sky and a glorious sun ushered in 
the day of the Holy Feast. The mild weather had 
melted the snow, and the high winds had dried most 
of the moisture, so that the streets were in fairly 
good condition for the parade. The religious pro- 
cessions in Spain were always a magnificent spec- 
tacle. 

Behind the royal family, walked the archbishop, 
wearing his jewelled mitre, and followed by the 
Chapter arrayed in gorgeous copes and robes. The 
Knights of Santiago and Calatrava followed, the 
cross upon their breasts, eac-h knight accompanied 
by his page and esquire carrying flags and the em- 


FATHER JEROME. 


1 66 

blems of the order. Then came monks from 
the different religious houses, and singers who in- 
toned the offices of the church. Last of all, promi- 
nent citizens from the city marched in large num- 
bers, and among these were the Count de Menillo, 
his son Don Enrique, his nephew Don Alfonso, and 
his prospective son-in-law Don Lope. In different 
parts of the procession images as large as life 
were carried, representing Christ, the Virgin, and 
numerous saints. The houses throughout the city 
were artistically draped, and the balconies were 
crowded with fair women, eager to witness this 
glorious spectacle. 

When the procession came in front of the resi- 
dence of the Count de Menillo, a halt was made for 
a few moments. One of Don Lope’s friends quietly 
slipped into the procession, and Don Alfonso 
passed out of the ranks unnoticed. On the piazzas 
and balconies the entire Menillo household was 
represented, and the Count’s heart swelled with 
pride as he saw the charming faces of his daughters, 
and he congratulated himself that the suspicion of 
heresy would to-day be wiped out, so far as his 
family was concerned; for was not Don Alfonso 
marching like a good Catholic ? 

As the procession moved on, Don Alfonso hur- 
ried to his room and quietly assumed the disguise 
of a servant. He then repaired to the shrine of St. 
Agnes, as he had been directed. Shortly Dona 


IN THE HEART OF THE STORM. 1 67 

Consuelo appeared on horseback, accompanied by 
her confessor, Father Cyprian, an old man of fair 
intelligence and benevolent instincts. He had been 
confessor to Dona Consuelo’s mother, and he had 
promised the dying woman always to care for her 
daughter. He was not willing to be left behind, 
and promised to lend his aid toward averting sus- 
picion from the young couple. 

The little party made a halt at Soria, and Father 
Cyprian, assisted by Father Ambrose, united the 
Don Alfonso and the Dona Consuelo in marriage. 
Their destination was San Sebastian, which in due 
time they reached in safety. It was here that Don 
Alfonso had a half ruined castle which he inherited 
from his parents. It had been in the care of an 
old couple, Pedro and Maria Moratin. Although 
in a dilapidated condition, there were enough habit- 
able rooms to make the old ruin a comfortable 
refuge for the newly wedded pair. 

Dona Inez bad promised to inform them if any 
danger menaced, but of this they had little fear. 
The Count de Menillo detested above all things a 
public scandal. 

Don Alfonso had come from the battle-field like 
a victor, bearing his spoils with him. He pro- 
nounced himself a happy man. But was he ? 


CHAPTER XVIL 


THE HOLY HOUSE. 

It was midnight when the gloomy doors of the 
Santa Casa or Holy House, opened to receive 
Father Jerome Ortiz. Even in that awful hour, 
when he was conveyed from his cell in the House 
of the Jesuits to the prison of the Inquisition, he 
noticed by the glare of a torch the inscription over 
those iron doors : “ Exurge, Domine ! Judica 
causam tuam ! Capite nobis vulpes ! — Arise, 
Lord ! Plead thy cause ! Take the foxes for us ! — 
and he shuddered at the sacrilege. Angels must 
have hidden their faces and wept, and devils re- 
joiced at the words “ Holy House ” as applied to 
the prisons of the Inquisition, or to those other 
words, Company of Jesus,” meaning that band 
of fanatics who allowed nothing to deter them from 
their insane purposes. 

Much to his surprise, Father Jerome was not 
placed in a dungeon. His cell was above ground, 
eight feet square, and had one narrow grated win- 
dow higher than his head, through which a little 
light entered. There were two doors leading out 

i68 


THE HOLY HOUSE. 


169 


into a corridor, the inner one of iron and the outer 
one of oak, both heavily barred and bolted. Near 
the floor there was a sliding panel through which 
the daily rations were passed. The furniture in the 
room consisted of a bed of straw and a stool. 

The three days in which Father Jerome lay in a 
dungeon in the House of the Jesuits, he dwelt on 
the Mount of Transfiguration and partook of 
angels’ food. A grand exaltation of spirit pos- 
sessed his soul. Now a reaction, inevitable in one 
of his sensitive fibre, seized him. It is true that 
Father Jerome surrendered himself voluntarily into 
the cruel hands of the Inquisition. Nevertheless, 
an uncontrollable desire for freedom came over 
him. He paced his cell like a caged tiger, and ex- 
amined every nook and crevice to see if escape 
were possible. He sprang upon the iron door, and 
shook it in a frenzy of despair. He was young, and 
the feelings of hope and love and liberty were rag- 
ing within his breast, and threatened to overwhelm 
him. The solitude was something terrible. Not 
even a footfall broke the awful stillness, and worst 
of all, this horrible state of things was to last, per- 
haps for weeks, months, who could tell ? 

And the end of it all was the exquisite torture 
of the secret chamber and the most cruel and de- 
grading of deaths. Father Jerome was no coward, 
but he possessed a very sensitive temperament and 
he shrank from physical pain. His nature was a 


170 


FATHER JEROME. 


strange combination of strength and weakness. 
What a stronger or coarser nature would hardly 
call pain, he felt as anguish. He had a morbid ter- 
ror against experiencing suffering himself, or see- 
ing others suffer. Now the hour had come which 
was to test his manhood. Pain, such as he had not 
dreamed of, was before him. He must force him- 
self pitilessly to meet it. Exhausted by the conflict, 
he cast himself upon his bed of straw, and an ago- 
nizing prayer was wrung from his lips: “ Oh, Christ, 
help me ! A knowledge of thy love is what I 
need ! ” 

It seemed to his poor tortured heart as if a voice 
broke the stillness, and these words fell upon his 
ears: Fear not, for I have redeemed thee; I have 
called thee by thy name, thou art mine. When 
thou passest through the waters I will be with thee, 
and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; 
when thou walkest through the fire thou shalt not 
be burned, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee. 
Fear not, for I am with thee ! 

These words rang in his ears like a sweet lullaby; 
they soothed his quivering nerves and brought 
composure to his spirit. Very soon he was sleep- 
ing the heavy, dreamless sleep of physical exhaus- 
tion. 

Hour after hour passed, and still he slept. Perez 
Galdos, the jailer, made his daily rounds, and placed 
a loaf of stale bread and a pitcher of water in his 


THE HOLY HOUSE. 


171 

cell and went his way. It was not until late in the 
forenoon that Father Jerome awoke with a start. 
He sprang to his feet and in a moment realized 
where he was. The terrible anguish of the preced- 
ing night passed in review before him, but the sting 
had gone. Never again would he be called upon to 
endure such mental agony. The words, Fear 
not ! ” still echoed in his soul, and a quietness of 
spirit possessed him. He could even think of the 
future calmly. The peace of God had entered his 
soul, and he sat down to quietly await events. 

He expected to be summoned directly before the 
Holy Tribunal, but the day passed and no one came 
to his cell. Another day and another, and still the 
solitude remained unbroken. 

This condition of things was becoming intolera- 
ble. Anything — even torture — would be preferable. 
The Inquisitors were keen judges of human nature. 
They knew the value of time, and the efficacy of 
solitary confinement. Father Jerome might very 
easily have lost his reason, as many a poor prisoner 
9f the Inquisition had done before him, but he tried 
every means to keep his mind occupied. He had 
committed a great many passages of Scripture to 
memory, and he repeated these aloud, to pass away 
the time and to sustain his courage. 

At last after he had been imprisoned about two 
weeks, the door of his cell opened to admit a Do- 
minican prior. Father Lantigua by name, a mem- 


172 


FATHER JEROME. 


ber of the official board, whose duty it was to 
inspect each cell, and to make a report twice a 
month. He saluted the prisoner courteously. 

Are you well ? ” he inquired. 

“ As well as I can be, your reverence.” 

Do you have your meals provided regularly, 
and are they satisfactory ? ” 

Father Jerome thought it prudent to answer in 
the affirmative. 

Is Galdos civil to you ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

The prior turned to go, but Father Jerome de- 
tained him. 

“ Can you tell me when my case will be tried ? ” 
he asked eagerly. 

“ Not at present, I think,” was the cold answer. 

The Tribunal is showing you a great kindness, 
in giving you so much time in which to meditate 
on your sins and seek forgiveness. I hope you will 
make good use of it.” 

“ Is it permitted me to inquire after my friends? ” 

“ It is not,” replied the prior as he went his way. 

Father Jerome thought often of his friends, and 
wondered as to their probable fate. He knew that 
the storm of persecution had burst over Seville and 
Valladolid. This much, the under-jailer, Caspar 
Segura, had told him. This man had naturally a 
kind heart, and had he not feared his master 
Caldos, he would undoubtedly have rendered the 


THE HOLY HOUSE, 


173 


prisoners many a service. Jerome thought often of 
Fray Constantino, and of Don Carlos de Seso. To 
be sure he had only conversed with these brethren 
once, but they had each recognized in him a fellow 
disciple, and had spoken helpful words concerning 
his souks salvation. He counted them as among 
his dearest friends. Then there was the brave, 
generous Don Alfonso ! would his faith stand the 
test of persecution ? And Father Ambrose, dear 
old man ! too credulous to doubt the dogmas of 
the church, yet too kind-hearted to condemn the 
heretic, what would this tempest do for him ? 

And Dr. Sebastian and Doha Irene ! Would 
they be arrested ? Undoubtedly ! The doctor was 
a stanch Lutheran, and could not fail of being ap- 
prehended. And Irene ? 

A cold sweat stood out on the priest's brow, as 
he thought of that delicate girl in a prison cell. He 
had long ago given up thinking of the tortures of 
the secret chamber as far as they touched him per- 
sonally, but Doha Irene ! Could the judges be so 
cruel as to torture a woman ? He knew that they 
both could and would. In a moment of the keenest 
anguish he cried, “ O Christ, we are thine. Save 
us, for we are powerless to help ourselves ! " 

One day, how long after his entrance into the 
Inquisition he knew not, for he had ceased to 
reckon time, there was an unusual commotion in 
the corridor. Footsteps seemed to come and go. 


174 


FATHER JEROME. 


Doors Opened and shut quite frequently. At last a 
voice loud and clear chanted a versicle from the 
Psalms: 


“ Hear my voice, O Lord, in my prayer. 

Preserve my life from fear of the enemy. 

The righteous shall be glad in the Lord 
And shall trust in Him.” 

The harsh voice of Galdos sounded in the cor- 
ridor, 

“ Hark ! Let no one one disturb the quiet of the 
Holy House ! ” 

Father Jerome thought he recognized the voice 
and the pure Castilian accent. Only once had he 
heard it, and that was at an inn where he remained 
over night on his return from Seville. 

Good Segura,’^ he said entreatingly, to the 
under-jailer as he thrust in his food at the noonday 
hour, “ pray tell me who dared to sing in the Santa 
Casa ? 

Segura looked all about him carefully, then mak- 
ing a pretence of examining the sliding panel, he 
whispered softly, 

“ Don Carlos de Seso.'^ 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE FLIGHT. 

How fared it all this time with Dr. Sebastian 
and his daughter ? Early the next morning, before 
it was light, two more Alguazils appeared at the 
doctor’s house. Their loud knocks were answered 
by Ursula. 

Have your master and mistress returned yet ? ” 

They have not, your reverences.” 

They have given us the slip, I fear. Some one 
must have warned them,” said one of the Alguazils. 

“ Paciencia ! ” answered the other. If we bide 
our time we shall track them. The confessional 
will reveal the secret.” 

The Alguazils went over the house again, from 
garret to cellar, examining cupboards and drawers, 
moving furniture, and kicking aside rugs. Ursula 
assisted them with well-assumed courtesy and re- 
spect. They spent a long time in the room which 
Dr. Sebastian used as his office. At last one of 
the men uttered an exclamation. “ Here it is ! ” 
he said, moving aside a secretary and pointing to 
a panel much worn with use. Striking it with his 
fist, a hollow sound was heard. 


175 


176 


FATHER JEROME. 


Come, old woman, be lively here ! If you 
know how to open this cupboard, do it quickly, or 
we will smash it in.” 

Ursula looked very serious, but she moved for- 
ward at this bidding and touched a secret spring. 

I suppose, your reverences, it is no crime to 
have such a cupboard in one’s house. All families 
of any standing have a secret receptacle for their 
valuables.” 

The panel flew back and the Familiars made 
haste to examine the secret place. They found 
several pieces of silver-plate, one or two costly fans 
of Moorish workmanship, a web of antique lace, 
and a few other valuables. The Familiars tossed 
these aside with many a contemptuous expression. 
At last one of them found a piece of parchment. 
He eagerly drew it forth, but when he saw nothing 
more heretical than an old and beautifully illumi- 
nated folio missal, he uttered words which sounded 
strangely like a curse, and threw the innocent 
parchment on the floor. 

Ursula crossed herself, and after picking up the 
abused folio, and smoothing the crumpled leaves, 
she carefully replaced it in the secret receptacle. 

“ My confessor taught me to treat holy books 
better than that,” she exclaimed with spirit. 

“ Hold your tongue, you old idiot, or you will 
find yourself in hot water ! ” said one of the Al- 
guazils. Direct us to the chamber where Dr. 


THE FLIGHT. 


177 


Sebastian changed his clothes. Look here ! ” he 
added to Diego, the man-servant. Come with us 
and bring along a hammer or axe.’’ 

The Alguazils examined every nook and crevice 
in and about the room. 

'' Strike there ! ” they said, pointing to the wall 
back of a narrow stairway which opened out of Dr. 
Sebastian’s room. 

Diego did as he was requested, but nothing sus- 
picious was heard in the sound. They next exam- 
ined the clothes-press with care. The doctor and 
his daughter fairly held their breaths, as they lis- 
tened to the sounds of the investigation. 

“ Strike there, Diego ! ” again commanded the 
Alguazils. 

The Doha Irene grew as pale as death at this 
order, and the doctor, passing his hand over his 
forehead, found it clammy with sweat. There 
passed in review before his mind the untold hor- 
rors which would await both himself and his child, 
if they were discovered. The minutes seemed like 
hours. The suspense was well-nigh intolerable. At 
last Diego’s hammer fell with a crash, within a few 
inches of the panel door. A piece of the solid beam 
which ran across the top was splintered, but noth- 
ing suspicious was detected. 

I can discover no way of egress here,” said one 
of the Alguazils. Dr. Sebastian must have left 


178 


FATHER JEROME, 


the house. Let us try the stable. Perhaps we shall 
have better success there.” 

The search naturally proved fruitless, and baf- 
fled and disappointed the emissaries of the Holy 
Office went their way. For several days a close 
watch was kept on this house. Then the vigilance 
of the Inquisition seemed to relax. But Dr. Sebas- 
tian and his household knew with whom they were 
dealing, and were wary. The captives left the 
secret chamber only occasionally. Ursula cooked 
their meals, and brought them to the chamber and 
left them standing on a table. Later, she removed 
all traces of the meal. After living this sort of a life 
for a week. Dr. Sebastian grew desperate. 

^‘We must get away from here, Irene. Sooner 
or later our presence must be discovered,” said the 
doctor. “ I will go down-stairs and talk the matter 
over with Diego.” 

The servants were overjoyed to see their master 
again. Diego held up his finger warningly. 

‘‘ Hush ! ” he said, “ speak softly. I saw one of 
those black devils not an hour since, prowling 
about the grounds.” 

“ What are the bells tolling for ? ” inquired the 
doctor. 

‘‘ The great Emperor Carlos is dead.” 

His eel pies, sardine omelettes, and potted 
capons were too much for him,” said Dr. Sebastian 
with grim humor. 


THE FLIGHT. 


179 


And such was the fact, in spite of the copious 
draughts of senna and rhubarb which the court 
physician, who stood beside his royal patient and 
watched his gluttony, administered. 

'' They say,” continued Diego, that the great 
Carlos raved against the heretics when he was 
dying, and urged the speedy execution of his old 
court preachers Fray Augustin Cazalla and Fray 
Constantino. He also had a codicil added to his 
will, instructing Felipe Segundo to drive heresy 
from the kingdom at any price. He told his con- 
fessor repeatedly, that he committed a sin in allow- 
ing the great Luther to slip out of his clutches. 
‘ To think that I have kept faith with that heretic,’ 
he repeated again and again.” 

What a revolting spectacle ! ” said Dr. Sebas- 
tian. “ A man dying of gluttony setting himself up 
as a judge of other men’s consciences ! The idea 
of his urging his son Philip to greater fanaticism ! 
As if that monster of selfishness, bigotry, and 
cruelty needed any prompter in his diabolical 
schemes ! ” 

Another thing, sehor doctor,” continued 
Diego. Felipe Segundo has written to the re- 
gent to celebrate a solemn Auto de Fe directly, 
in order to strike terror to the hearts of heretics, 
as well as to carry out his lamented father’s dying 
wishes. He says that he cannot return himself be- 
fore October, and he ordered the spectacle to take 


i8o 


FATHER JEROME. 


place without him. And, senor doctor,” said Diego 
hesitatingly, “ I’m thinking that you and the seho- 
rita had better be getting away from here before 
long.” 

“ That is precisely my idea,” said Dr. Sebastian. 

“ I will do the best I can to serve you,” said 
Diego. “ You may trust me, senor doctor.” 

Late in the afternoon Diego returned with a ra- 
diant countenance. In the Jewish quarter of the 
city he had discovered an old Jew, one of the many 
who had ‘‘ apostatized ” and who hated the name 
of “ Christian.” Through what untold agonies 
Isaac and his brethren had been compelled to ac- 
cept Christian baptism history can give us but a 
meagre outline, but that outline is traced in blood. 
Isaac was exultant when he saw the Christians per- 
secuting each other. He hoped they would keep 
up this petty warfare until not one of the hated 
sect remained. Still for a “ consideration ” this 
keen-eyed Jew would assist the weaker Christian 
party, for he despised the royal prerogative and 
longed to see the Spanish sovereigns and their 
spiritual head defeated. He agreed to shelter the 
entire Sebastian household until the search was 
over, and then to pilot them to some safe spot out- 
side the city gates. The night following the cele- 
bration of the church festival was the one selected 
for the flitting. The time which intervened passed 
slowly and without incident. The evening planned 


THE FLIGHT. 


I8l 


for their escape arrived. The little company of 
fugitives was suitably disguised, and having com- 
pleted their arrangements were about to leave the 
house, when without any warning the door of Dr. 
Sebastian’s office opened, and two Familiars ap- 
peared. 

An oath burst from the lips of Diego. 

“ We have caught you at last. Dr. Sebastian,” 
said one of the Familiars. We have watched and 
waited for this hour, day and night. You and your 
daughter will at once follow us.” 

The Familiars of the Holy Office were so accus- 
tomed to obedience, that they did not for a moment 
dream of resistance. At a sign from Dr. Sebastian, 
he and his servant sprang upon the cowled figures, 
and after a short conflict, the Familiars were soon 
bound hand and foot and gagged. 

“ How do you like a taste of your own medicine, 
you black devils ? ” said Diego, as he saw his ad- 
versaries hors de combat. 

‘‘ Hush ! hush ! ” said the doctor sternly. Let 
us not rejoice over our enemies until we are safely 
out of their clutches.” Hastily collecting the few 
things which they could conveniently dispose about 
their persons, they extinguished the light, and left 
the Familiars prisoners in an empty house. 

Quickly leaving this neighborhood, they passed 
down a side street. Quite a distance away, they 
espied lanterns and two cowled figures approach- 


i 82 


FATHER JEROME. 


ing. Not caring to meet these dreaded Familiars, 
they made good their escape into an alley. The 
sereno, or night watchman, whose duty it was to 
pace the streets, and call out the hours and half 
hours, saluted them. 

“ Who goes there ? ” - 

“ Friends and good Catholics,^’ returned Diego, 

coming from the festival of the Corpus Domini.’’ 

The sereno squared his shoulders and assumed an 
aggressive attitude. 

“ You do not proceed any further until you give 
a satisfactory account of yourselves.” 

“ Let us pass or it will be the worse for you,” 
said Diego hotly. 

You cannot pass,” replied the sereno. 

Then take the consequences ! ” said Diego, 
giving the watchman an unexpected blow in the 
face which knocked him senseless. The lantern 
clattered noisily to the ground and the light went 
out. 

“We must run for our lives ! ” said Dr. Sebas- 
tian. 

Diego led the way, and after traversing a laby- 
rinth of streets and lanes, they succeeded in reach- 
ing the house of Isaac the Jew. Here they remained 
concealed for a week. Then they were piloted to 
the camp of a roving band of gypsies, where their 
safety was assured. 


i 


CHAPTER XIX. 


THE SECRET TRIBUNAL. 

The questionable honor of establishing the Holy 
Tribunal belongs to a Spaniard, Domingo de Guz- 
man by name, who also founded the Order of the 
Dominican monks. The papal power, finding itself 
unable to cope successfully with heresy, called to 
its aid the half-crazed St. Dominic and his friars. 
They were genuine bloodhounds, and their scent 
for their prey was keen. They proved equal to the 
emergency, and both caught and killed those little 
foxes in southern France, the Waldenses and the 
Albigenses, which had threatened to destroy “ the 
good corn of the faithful.’’ 

The Holy Tribunal was next called into requisi- 
tion in Spain, to aid in suppressing the Hebrew 
Jew and the infidel Moor. Torquemada, that Do- 
minican monk of infamous immortality, extorted a 
promise from the youthful Isabella, to whom he 
stood in the relation of confessor, that should she 
ever come to the throne she would devote her life 
to the extirpation of heresy, for the glory of God 
and the exaltation of the Catholic religion. 

183 


FATHER JEROME, 


184 

Queen Isabella faithfully executed the commands 
of her spiritual father, and during the lifetime of 
this first Inquisitor, ten thousand human beings 
were consigned to the flames, while ninety-seven 
thousand suffered infamy, or confiscation of prop- 
erty or perpetual imprisonment. It is not strange 
that upon her death-bed “ Isabella the Catholic ” 
suffered the keenest remorse for her irreparable 
mistake. 

'' For the sake of Christ and his maid mother, I 
have caused great misery and have depopulated 
towns and districts, provinces and kingdoms,” she 
said. 

There has been much said and written about the 
Inquisition and its fearful havoc in Spain. The his- 
torian Motley sums the matter in a single sentence, 
when he defines the Spanish Inquisition as a 
machine for inquiring into a man’s thoughts, and 
for burning him if the result was not satisfactory.” 
This terrible engine of destruction was now di- 
rected against Protestantism. 

The snow had entirely disappeared, and the warm 
breath of April was in the air, when the jailer Gal- 
dos entered Father Jerome’s cell one morning, 
carrying some coarse garments on his arm. He 
bade the prisoner disrobe, and don a pair of loose 
trousers and a ridiculous sort of a yellow jacket 
without sleeves. It was the attire usually worn by 
the common criminal, and a flush of resentment 


^HE SECRET TRIBUNAL. 


185 


rose to Father Jerome’s cheek as he proceeded to 
obey. He was about to put on his boots, but Galdos 
interfered. 

Prisoners walk barefooted into the presence of 
their judges,” he said briefly. Father Jerome’s pulse 
quickened and his body trembled. He was very 
weak. For twenty-four hours no food or drink had 
been brought to his cell, and he staggered from 
faintness. Before the prisoners of the Inquisition 
were summoned to meet their judges, fasting was 
considered an indispensable aid in breaking down 
obstinacy. 

The jailer conducted the prisoner to a large airy 
room in the front part of the Santa Casa. Galdos 
opened the door softly, and said with a profound 
bow, Here is the prisoner, your reverences.” 

He then quietly withdrew. 

Father Jerome was in the presence of the dreaded 
Holy Tribunal. At a long table, six men were 
seated. At the head sat the president of the board, 
the Vice-Inquisitor Munebraga, who has been well 
described as a madman with a sword.” His face 
was a fair index of his character. It was coarse, 
vicious, cruel. He did not possess a single drop of 
the sangre azul ” or blue blood of Spain. He had 
sprung from the lower ranks, and had received his 
promotion to this important post because of a cer- 
tain kind of sagacity and shrewdness, combined 
with a restless energy which made him a valuable 


FATHER JEROME. 


1 86 

man in this place. He had received full powers to 
cite, arrest, imprison, and torture heretics without 
observing even the ordinary forms of law, and to 
execute his sentences without appeal. 

Father Jerome turned from this face with loath- 
ing. No mercy or justice need be expected here. 
Beside him sat two Jesuits. In this instance they 
were General Borgia and Father Padilla. Besides 
these, there were the Dominican prior Father Lan- 
tigua, another Dominican monk, and a notary pub- 
lic. The latter bade Father Jerome step nearer the 
table. He held up a large crucifix and administered 
an awful oath. He then asked a few questions of 
minor importance, respecting the prisoner’s name, 
age, and place of residence. 

“ Do you know the offence for which you have 
been brought before this Tribunal ? ” demanded 
Munebraga. 

Before Father Jerome could reply. Father Lan- 
tigua said, Do not speak unadvisedly, my son. 
You have the privilege of choosing an advocate 
who will assist you in preparing your defence. You 
can also summon witnesses and listen to their ex- 
amination before you make any statement your- 
self.” 

Munebraga darted an angry look at the prior. 
Then leaning forward and fastening his cruel eyes 
on the prisoner, he said, ‘ Let us have an end to 
this quibbling. Are you a Lutheran or not ? ” 


THE SECRET TRIE [/HAL, 1 8 / 

I am ! was the prompt reply. 

“ Heresy is ‘ crimen laesce majestatis divince' ” 
said one of the Doctors of the Law. 

Father Jerome turned to the prior. “ I thank 
your reverence most sincerely for your suggestions, 
but should I take your advice, of what avail would 
it be ? My accusers are before me. I acknowledge 
myself to be a Lutheran. My doom is sealed, and 
certainly death is preferable to months of imprison- 
ment. Knowing the certainty of my fate, I deem 
the straight road of confession to be the shorter 
one in the end. And now, your reverences, my 
position is clearly defined. Do with me as you 
will.” 

‘‘ Forsooth, we have a bold heretic here ! ” said 
Munebraga. “ Why do we waste time on such as 
he ? He is ripe for the flames.” 

“ As the spiritual guardian of this young apos- 
tate, I claim the privilege, your Excellency,” said 
General Borgia, turning to the Vice-Inquisitor, ^‘of 
setting clearly before the prisoner the attitude of 
the church toward heretics, and to reiterate to him 
the terrible consequences of rebellion. We do not 
want any man’s blood upon our hands. Let us 
merit our motto, ‘ Misericordia et justitia ! ’ ” 

Munebraga looked annoyed, but he did not dare 
to refuse so important a personage as General 
Borgia, therefore he nodded assent. 

The Jesuit then drew a graphic picture of the 


i88 


FATHER JEROME. 


mother church holding out her arms to her sinning 
children, desiring to enfold them, that she might 
bless them with her love. “ Surely,” he said in con- 
clusion, his sincerity showing itself in the tears 
which glistened in his eyes, “ Surely she who has 
borne and nourished countless hosts of saints and 
martyrs, is worthy of all reverence, and it is an 
awful thing to be cut off from her communion. To 
hear from her lips the words ‘ anathema ! anath- 
ema ! ’ will mean fire here and fire hereafter. My 
son, be warned ! ” 

The notary public now interposed a few official 
questions. 

‘‘ Is this your book ? ” he inquired, holding up 
a copy of the New Testament. 

‘‘ It is.” 

‘‘ Where did you obtain it ? ” 

I decline to- answer.” , 

The Doctors of the Law consulted together 
a few moments. Then one of them said, 

“ You were sent to Seville some months ago to 
visit the Fray Constantino. Did he avow any Lu- 
theran doctrines in your presence ? ” 

There had been great difficulty in obtaining evi- 
dence against this beloved preacher which would 
incriminate him. 

Father Jerome’s eyes sparkled with indignation, 
but he controlled himself and replied as before, 

“ I decline to answer.” 


THE SECRET TRIE [/HAL. 1 89 

A shudder ran around the little circle at this dar- 
ing opposition. 

Munebraga said with a cruel laugh, ‘‘We may 
find a way, young man, to unseal your lips. There 
are some things which, according to the testimony 
of those who have experienced them, are worse 
than death.” 

Ringing a bell, he summoned Galdos,' who es- 
corted his prisoner back to his cell. In the course 
of the month two other examinations were made 
by the official board. But we will not dwell upon 
this wicked travesty and mockery of a trial. When 
all was finally over, the Vice-Inquisitor turned to 
General Borgia with a triumphant smile. “ Con- 
fess, your reverence, that for once in your life at 
least you have been mistaken in your man. Is this 
the callow youth you expected would by this time 
sue for mercy ? I have not seen so obstinate a 
heretic in many a day. He ranks with Don Carlos 
de Seso.” 

“ I do not despair of him yet,” replied the Gen- 
eral. “ He is not nearly as courageous as he ap- 
pears. He is particularly sensitive to physical pain, 
and has been from a child. I think a judicious ap- 
plication of the rack will bring him to reason. I 
wish no means left untried which will bring him to 
his senses,” he added, his strong features working 
with emotion, “ for his soul is dear to me. I would 
be to him like the kind physician, who probes the 


190 


FATHER JEROME. 


sore to the very heart, that he may save the dis- 
eased member.” 

It was then voted to try Father Jerome with 
''peine forte et dure;” in other words, to have him 
endure The Question,” or Inquisitorial tortures. 


CHAPTER XX. 


A NIGHT OF ANGUISH. 

Father Jerome suffered the keenest mental 
anguish during the . days which succeeded fiis ex- 
amination by the Holy Tribunal. The tortures of 
the secret chamber, more dreaded even than death 
itself, hung over his sensitive spirit. Mingled with 
the dread of physical suffering was the horrible fear 
that in his weakness he should betray those whom 
he held dear. With prayers and tears he wrestled 
with his agony. Not a ray of light pierced the 
gloom of despair. At times the thought flitted 
across his mind: Did my father suffer like this ? 
Did he remain steadfast to his faith, or did the 
weakness of the flesh undermine his will ? ‘ Sleep- 
less nights followed these days of suspense. His 
dreams were full of nightmare visions. He had 
reached his Gethsemane and it seemed to him that 
the bitterest cup ever pressed to mortal lips was 
given to him to drink. 

At last there came a red-letter day, if such can 
be in the chronicle of prison life. During the day- 

191 


192 


FATHER JEROME. 


time the outer door of the cell was left open to 
admit the air. One morning, quite early, Father 
Jerome roused from a fitful slumber to see the slid- 
ing panel opened, and a child's hand placed an 
orange inside his cell. The next morning, besides 
his regular rations, a luscious bunch of grapes ap- 
peared. The poor captive was eagerly watching 
for his new visitor, and when the panel slid back 
he put his face to the opening and whispered, 

“ Quien es ? " 

It is Angela ! " said a child’s sweet voice. “ I 
am so sorry for you, poor senor. Can I do any- 
thing for you ? ” 

God’s blessing on you, little one ! ” replied 
Father Jerome. You have comforted me by your 
presence more than you dream.” 

Footsteps were heard approaching, and a 
woman’s voice whispered, ‘‘ Hush, for God’s sake ! 
If we are heard, we shall be ruined. Run away now, 
Angela, and watch for your father. Let me know 
when he begins his daily rounds.” 

The child departed as she was bidden. 

Whose little one is that ? ” inquired Father 
Jerome. 

‘‘ She is the daughter of Perez Galdos.” 

‘‘ The jailer’s daughter ? And does she dare to 
comfort and cheer the prisoners ? ” 

‘‘ Hush ! dear senor, not quite so loud. Every 
sound above a whisper is heard in the Holy House 


A NIGHT OF ANGUISH, 


193 


and reported. Yes, we dare to help God’s servants 
in our humble way. I am the child’s nurse, Maria 
Gonzalez. When I told Angela about these poor 
prisoners who were suffering unjustly and for no 
crime, her sympathies were enlisted and together 
we thought out this little plan for helping the Mas- 
ter’s sufferers.” 

May God reward you for your kindness,” said 
Father Jerome, touched by the self-sacrifice of this 
humble woman. “ Do you love our Lord Jesus, 
too ? ” 

Ah yes, sehor, as far as a poor ignorant woman 
may. The Fray Domingo de Rojas, who now lies 
in this prison, told me that God and the Lord Jesus 
loved even such a sinner as 1. He said a great 
many things to me which I did not rightly under- 
stand, but this much I have carried in my heart: 
that Jesus came to seek and save those who are 
lost; and I have been happy ever since I heard 
those words. But I cannot stop longer this time. 
Is there anything I can do for you, sehor ? ” 

‘‘ Can you give me any tidings of Dr. Sebastian’s 
family, or of Don Alfonso de Menillo ? ” 

The woman shook her head. “ They are not in 
the Santa Casa. I will try and find out for you, 
if I can do so without arousing suspicion.” 

It would be a great favor if I could learn their 
fate,” said the priest with pleading eyes. 

“ I will do the best I can, sehor. But Galdos is 


194 


FATHER JEROME. 


very cruel, and should he discover what I was do- 
ing, he would throw me into that horrible cistern 
at the rear of the prison. More than one of his 
servants has disappeared mysteriously, and he is 
cruel enough for any atrocity.” 

“ Do you know aught concerning Fray Constan- 
tino or Don Carlos de Seso ? ” 

“ Fray Constantino is arrested, and Don Carlos 
has endured the Question.” 

How did he endure it ? ” said Father Jerome 
eagerly. 

“ The Inquisitors said that they never saw such 
superb courage. Not a word passed his lips that 
could injure any one. He is very weak, but his 
faith is unshaken. I hear the child coming. Gal- 
dos has evidently begun his rounds. Keep up a 
good heart, and rest assured your friends are think- 
ing of you. Adios ! ” 

Vaya con Dios ! ” replied Father Jerome. 

God had indeed sent his angels to cheer his dis- 
couraged servant, but he had need of his new- 
found strength. That very night as the chimes of 
midnight struck, he was roused from the first 
refreshing sleep he had enjoyed for weeks by the 
entrance of the jailer, who bade him arise and 
follow. 

With a silent cry into the ears of the One who 
slumbers not nor sleeps. Father Jerome followed 
his guide in silence. They passed along the corri- 


A NIGHT OF ANGUISH. 


195 


dor to the northwest tower, and then descended 
a circular stone stairway. Down, down they went 
into the bowels of the earth, the lantern making the 
darkness more apparent. The air grew damp, and 
a foul, earthy smell greeted their nostrils. At last 
the jailer paused before a series of underground 
dungeons, and unlocking the door to one of the 
cells, held up his lantern and bade Father Jerome 
look in. An emaciated human being was crouch- 
ing close to the cold slimy floor. A collar of sharp 
iron spikes was around his neck and fastened to a 
beam, so that he could neither lie down nor sit 
down without bearing the whole weight of the iron 
and lacerating his flesh. 

The poor wretch turned his hollow eyes toward 
his visitors, and said, 

Mercy, for the love of Jesus ! ” 

“ Recant and you shall have mercy ! ” replied 
the jailer. 

The man groaned. Father Jerome shuddered. 

They passed out, locking the cell after them, 
and proceeded to the next one. Here in a 
narrow chest lay a man, who was lying on 
sharp flints. The chest was not long enough or 
wide enough to allow the occupant to stretch out 
his cramped limbs. The framework of the lid was 
iron, and there were slats of iron across the top. 

Have you had enough of your downy couch ? ’’ 
cried Galdos with a wicked laugh. See here, 


196 


FATHER JEROME. 


Father Jerome, that man’s hair was as black as 
your own when he came down here. Now look at 
it ! ” Every hair was as white as the drifted snow ! 

“ Take me out of this accursed hole, and I will 
swear anything ! ” moaned the poor wretch. “ God 
knows flesh and blood can stand no more.” 

“ You are coming into a more reasonable frame 
of mind, I perceive,” said Galdos. '' It is a pity 
that you did not do so before. To-morrow I will 
report your case to the judges.” 

“ To-morrow ! ” shrieked the unhappy victim. 
‘‘ Now ! Now ! Santa Maria, have you no 
heart ? ” 

The sound of the piteous voice followed them 
until they reached the next row of cells, which were 
across the corridor. 

A raving maniac occupied one of these. He was 
shaggy, unkempt, ferocious, and wasted to a mere 
skeleton. There was no need to inquire what had 
reduced the poor unfortunate to this dire extrem- 
ity. For months he had shared his cell with hungry 
rats, toads, and adders. 

“ I entreat you to show me no more suffering,” 
cried Father Jerome as he staggered with faintness. 

Are you men or demons that you can inflict such 
tortures upon human beings ? ” 

‘‘We are trying to save souls,” answered Galdos. 
“ Some day these unhappy men will thank us for 
driving them into the true fold.” 


A NIGHT OF ANGUISH. 


197 


They looked into one more cell. A man lay on 
a bed of straw writhing in agony. Knotted cords 
had been wound tightly about his head so that the 
skin was broken, and the cruel cord threatened to 
work its way into the ‘brain. 

Call the judges ! ” cried the man in agony. I 
will confess everything ! ” 

To-morrow,” replied the jailer. Shriek after 
shriek followed them, as the unhappy wretch real- 
ized that hours must elapse before relief would 
come. 

They now entered a vaulted chamber, so con- 
structed that the cries of the unfortunate sufferers 
could not reach the outer world. The room was 
dimly lighted by torches. Galdos bade Father 
Jerome sit down and look around. The jailer then 
went out and locked the door. In the centre of the 
chamber was a brazier full of glowing coals, and 
in this were pincers heated to a gray heat. Sharp 
stakes were driven into the wall and the poor vic- 
tim could be hung by the feet and stifled with foul 
smoke. There were also cruel cords and pulleys 
and weights for inflicting the dreaded strappado. 
Then there were the leaden balls, the barbed hooks, 
and cords for compressing the arm, the helmet, the 
rack, and other cruel instruments of mediaeval 
torture. 

When Father Jerome was left alone he fell upon 


FATHER JEROME. 


198 

his knees and cried aloud in his anguish, If it be 
possible let this cup pass from me. I am weak, 
the weakest of thy followers ! Let me not become 
a reproach to thy cause and a source of derision 
to my enemies. Save me, O my Lord and Mas- 
ter ! ” 

A strength and courage foreign to his nature 
permeated his entire being. He was himself and 
yet not himself. He glanced indifferently upon the 
terrible paraphernalia of cruelty around him. He 
had lost all fear. 

The heavy iron door swung on its hinges, and 
the jailer entered, followed by the judges, Mune- 
braga. Father Lantigua, the registrar, and two 
executioners. The latter were dressed in leather 
jerkins, and wore a mask over their faces with holes 
cut for eyes, through which they glared at their 
already terrified victims. 

Are you ready to answer the questions which 
we proposed at your examination ? ’’ inquired the 
prior. 

'' I can add nothing to my statement,’’ replied 
Father Jerome. I expect no mercy from man, 
and I cast myself on the mercy of God. ‘ Rather 
death than false faith ’ is the motto of the house 
of Valero.” 

Heretic,” thundered the prior, “ do you see 
yonder rack ? ” 



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A NIGHT OF ANGUISH 


199 


‘'I do, your reverence. And if you insist on using 
the power which is yours, and rend me limb from 
limb, thank God the worst will soon be over, and 
I shall straightway be beyond your cruelty.” 

“ Executioners, do your duty,” said Munebraga. 

If the rack fails to bring this young man to reason, 
we will try the thumbscrews and the Spanish 
boots.” 

The executioners came forward to seize Father 
Jerome, but he calmly waved them aside. 

You do not need to use force. I will myself 
walk to yonder bed of pain.” 

The rack was an oblong horizontal frame, on 
which the unfortunate victim was stretched naked, 
while cords were attached to his arms and legs. 
These cords were gradually tightened by a wind- 
lass, until the joints of the wrist and ankles were 
dislocated. 

Father Jerome was bound and the executioners 
began their terrible work. 

A cry of mortal agony came from the priest's 
lips, and then another. 

Munebraga bade the executioners wait a mo- 
ment, and the prior repeated his interrogations. 
But not one word which would implicate his breth- 
ren was wrung from the sufferer’s lips. 

The windlass creaked again. A shriek, and all 
was still ! God had answered Father Jerome’s 


200 


FATHER JEROME, 


prayer for help, and a merciful unconsciousness 
held his senses. 

There was no pleasure or profit to be obtained 
from torturing a victim who was past realizing pain, 
so Munebraga ordered Father Jerome’s removal to 
a dungeon. 


CHAPTER XXL 


AT SEVILLE. 

When Father Jerome returned to consciousness, 
he found himself in an underground dungeon 
chained to the wall. His only comforts were un- 
mitigated darkness and a loathsome cell; his com- 
panions, noisy rats. Yet he was at peace. The worst 
was now over. He had tasted the bitterness of 
death, and he had nothing more to fear. He had 
no longings to live, no desire to see any one. His 
past life seemed to have drifted beyond his recall, 
and he lay quietly awaiting the summons which 
should call him to his heavenly home. He was like 
a ship, which, battered and spent with many a gale, 
had drifted into a calm and pleasant harbor, in full 
view of the shore, and only waited some friendly 
hand to tow her into port. But as the hours wore 
on, and the vitality of youth began to assert itself, 
he realized with a pang of disappointment that he 
was not going to die. 

Soon the door of his cell opened, and Maria Gon- 
zales appeared. The jailer had orders to see that 


201 


202 


FATHER JEROME. 


none of the prisoners were neglected, so that they 
should escape the clutches of the Inquisition by 
death. After prisoners had endured the Question, 
a woman’s kindly offices were imperative. 

Maria gave a low cry as she gazed at Father 
Jerome. There is no sadder sight in the world 
than a young face made old by suffering. The ter- 
rible anguish of the preceding night had prema- 
turely aged the young man, and the look of youth 
had forever vanished from the worn face. Threads 
of silver shone in the dark hair. His face was pal- 
lid, except for a crimson spot on each cheek, 
where the fever burned. He moaned in his dis- 
tress, 

“ Water, mi madre ! cool water ! ” Again and 
again the good woman raised the cup to his lips. 
She rubbed the aching joints with liniment, and 
bathed the hot brow. He whispered his thanks. 

“ Do not look so sad, dear sehor,” she said with 
tears in her eyes. 

I had thought that all was over, and that I 
should awake in the presence of my Lord.” 

“ Take courage, sehor. Those cruel men have 
done their worst.” 

A smile irradiated the face of Father Jerome. 

Yes,” he said in a feeble voice, I know all the 
dread mystery of pain. They have done their worst, 
but Christ helped me as he promised. I did not 
betray my friends. Death is robbed of all its ter- 


AT SEVILLE. 


203 


rors. I know that One will stand beside me in the 
flames, and cheer and comfort me to the end.” 

Maria dared linger no longer. Opening a little 
basket, she handed the sick man an orange and a 
spray of the fragrant blossoms. The delicate per- 
fume filled the noisome cell. It stirred memories 
half forgotten. Dona Irene had worn a cluster 
in her bosom the day on which he first met her. 
How lovely she had looked ! He longed to see 
her sweet face again, but had the doors of his prison 
stood open, he hardly felt as though he could make 
the effort to win freedom. No ! To depart and be 
with Christ were far better. 

Thanks, mi madre ! ” he said, rousing himself 
with an effort. I had well-nigh forgotten what 
season of the year it was. I have learned to measure 
time by the heavenly calendar. Yes, it is but for 
a moment, the anguish, the suffering; afterward 
the eternal weight of glory.” 

Is there anything more I can do for your com- 
fort, senor ? ” said the poor woman, her motherly 
instincts aroused by the prisoner's youth and for- 
lorn condition. 

Did you learn any tidings of my friends ? ” he 
eagerly inquired. 

No, senor. I did my best to find out, but 
there was no opportunity. Let us look on the 
bright side, senor. They are not in the Santa Casa, 
and who knows but what they may have escaped ? ” 


204 


FA THE JEROME. 


'' It is all right, either way,” said Father Jerome. 

God knows what is best, and they, as well as my- 
self, are in his hands. God bless you, mi madre, and 
reward you for these cups of cold water with which 
you have so many times cheered his servants.” 

For days Father Jerome lay in a sort of trance, 
caring for nothing, desiring nothing. Skilful phy- 
sicians visited him, and reset his dislocated joints, 
and allayed his fever. He heard their voices at a 
distance, but could not remember what they said. 
In his fever dreams, he seemed to hang on the far 
confines of the world of sense, unconscious alike of 
day or night, of joy or sorrow. 

“ Exiled from earth and yet not winged for heaven.” 

One day he roused from this blissful state, to 
find the loved face of Father Ambrose bending 
over him. 

“ My dear son,” said the old man, weeping like 
a child. It grieves me sore to see you like this.” 

'' Weep not for me,” replied Father Jerome. ‘‘ I 
am at peace.” 

But they have been harsh, unnecessarily 
harsh,” said the old man, as his eye noted the hor- 
rible surroundings and the scars on the young 
priest^s wrists. 

'' I have been very obstinate,” said Father 
Jerome with a wan smile. “ But the truths of God, 
which I have bought at such great cost, are more 


AT SEVILLE. 


205 


precious to me to-day than they have ever been. 
I cannot recant.’’ 

“ Cannot you hold these views, and still submit 
to the Holy Church ? ” 

No,” replied Father Jerome. “ The church 
seeks to come between me and God. Christ is the 
door of the fold, as well as the Shepherd. It is he 
who unites us to his church, not the church to him. 
The church can neither give life nor take it. But tell 
me, dear Father, if you know aught concerning the 
brethren ? ” 

The great Fray Constantino was betrayed into 
the hands of the Inquisition, and now lies in a dun- 
geon, under sentence of death.” 

“ Oh, my noble friend! ” moaned Father Jerome. 

The Fray had concealed some of his Lutheran 
books in the house of a Protestant lady of rank, 
the Doha Isabella Martinia. She was arrested. Her 
son, hoping to divert suspicion from himself, met 
the Alguazils who came to search his house, and 
told them that if they would preserve him from 
harm, he would show them something hidden in 
the cellar of his mother’s house, more valuable in 
their eyes than gold. After receiving their prom- 
ise, he guided them to the place where the Fray 
Constantino’s books and manuscripts were hidden. 
When the Fray was confronted with these docu- 
ments, he frankly admitted that they were his, and 
contained his confession of faith. He was thrown 


2o6 


FATHER JEROME. 


into a dungeon and will perish in an Auto de Fe 
which is soon to take place at Seville.’’ 

The tears stood in Father Jerome’s eyes. 

The word of the Lord abideth forever,” he 
murmured to himself. 

The door of the cell was now opened and Father 
Lantigua appeared. 

‘‘Your time has expired, Father Ambrose. I 
trust you have labored faithfully with this erring 
one.” 

“ The sight of his dear old face has done my 
heart good. I thank you heartily for this indul- 
gence,” said Father Jerome. 

“We hope that conversation with one you seem 
to love and honor will lead you to repentance,” 
said the prior. 

The two churchmen left the cell, and the prisoner 
was once more in darkness. 

Father Ambrose made no attempt to conceal his 
emotion. The tears ran down his cheeks, and his 
feeble frame shook with sobs. 

“ Can you not do something for my poor young 
friend ? ” he said at length, grasping the prior’s 
arm with the energy of despair. 

“ I have already done more for him than my con- 
science approves,” said the Dominican, shaking off 
his companion’s arm, and looking at the tear- 
stained face with pitying contempt. “ I have rea- 
sons of my own for feeling a deep interes' in Father 


AT SEVILLE. 


207 


Jerome. I am acquainted with his history and his 
antecedents. I should be glad to save him from 
death. General Borgia is surprised at his obstinacy. 
I reminded him of the fact that the gale will break 
the mighty oak, but it only bends the sapling. The 
General has suggested a plan, which we shall try if 
we can gain the consent of the Grand Inquisitor 
and also of the Supreme Council. I will not tell 
you what the plan is, for it is foolish to arouse false 
hopes in your breast. It is more than doubtful if 
we gain the consent of the official board. If Father 
Jerome were not such an obstinate heretic, more 
sympathy would be shown him.” 

He cannot help it,” said Father Ambrose. ‘‘ It 
is in his blood.” 

‘‘ Then he must die ! ” was the cold reply. 


CHAPTER XXII. 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 

In an ancient castle in San Sebastian, among a 
group of cork-oaks, Don Alfonso deMenillo and his 
bride had passed six months of their wedded life. 
Consuelo in her radiant young beauty was the hap- 
piest of wives, and Don Alfonso the most devoted 
of husbands. They had received an assurance from 
Doha Inez that Count de Menillo had forgiven 
them their escapade, and that they could visit Val- 
ladolid in safety, whenever they so desired. She 
furthermore went on to say, “ Of course father was 
angry at first, but when he learned that Father 
Cyprian was with you, and that you were living 
as orthodox Catholics should, he got over his fit 
of temper. As for the Count de Menoz, the news 
of his son’s death so cut him to the heart, that he 
had a shock of paralysis and has not walked a step 
since. There is much joy in the city on account 
of the arrest and imprisonment of so many heretics. 
The Sebastians were lucky enough to escape. 
Father Ortiz is still in prison. Don Lope is as de- 
lightful as ever. Come and see us as soon as pos- 
sible.” 


208 


AN A WAKENED CONSCIENCE, 2dg 

This letter aroused Don Alfonso from his fleet- 
ing dream of happiness. Deep down in his heart, 
he knew that he was a coward. He had concealed 
his colors, and allowed the bullet to find nobler 
and truer hearts. At best, he was only a recreant 
soldier. He had lost his hold upon the faith he had 
embraced. He had not been true to his conscience, 
and his moral nature had suffered immeasurably. 
His confidence in God and in himself was shaken. 

The half-forgotten conversation with his friend 
came back to him. He recalled how he had boldly 
avowed his faith in Spain, as the promoter and 
friend of the Lutheran religion, and had declared 

Verdad y libertad ” to be his motto. Father 
Jerome had replied, My faith is anchored to the 
Rock of Ages.’’ Herein lay the difference between 
these two men. One trusted an earthly arm, the 
other a divine; one anchored to Spain, the other 
to Christ. 

While Don Alfonso was thus soliloquizing. Dona 
Consuelo entered the room humming a gay Span- 
ish ballad: 

“ In fair Sevilla, in fair Sevilla 
Where resides my best beloved : 

In a quiet little street, 

Where the neighbors friendly greet, 

Maidens from their windows neat. 

Sprinkle flowers so gay and sweet. 

There my anxious heart would be ! 

My heart so longs to be !” 


210 


FATHER JEROME. 


The young husband gazed upon that bright face 
with tenderness and admiration. Love had trans- 
formed the quiet reserved girl into a handsome 
queenly woman. Her eyes, in which glowed all the 
fire of her southern skies, rested upon Don Alfonso 
with proud, exulting joy. 

“ You look sad, amigo mio,” she said, twining 
her arms about his neck, and pressing her cheek 
fondly to his. '' Wherefore these clouds ? Are 
you not happy, dearest ? ” 

“ Yes, madly, selfishly happy,” replied Don Al- 
fonso. But, my beloved, did you know that you 
wedded a coward ? ” 

A de Menillo a coward ? ” cried Dona Con- 
suelo with flashing eyes. Never ! Have you not 
risked your life twice in duels, that not the slight- 
est taint of dishonor might attach to your noble 
name. The idea to call yourself a coward ! ” 

But I am a coward, nevertheless, amiga mia. 
My actions do not deserve a gentler name. Did I 
not desert my nearest friend, the one who has stood 
to me in the relation of brother, in the hour of his 
sorest need ? I did not lift a finger to help him, 
when in my secret heart I hold the same views. I 
have met with the brethren in their meetings, and 
deserve the same punishment, but I ran away from 
it like a coward.” 

Let the fault be mine, dearest,” said Doha Con- 
suelo. I gave you no choice but flight. I drew 


AJV AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


21 1 


you away from danger to a place of safety. Why 
lose one’s life for the sake of a creed ? ” 

Don Alfonso sighed. Your words are true, be- 
loved. Those matchless eyes bewitched me, and 
those loving wiles have dragged me farther than 
you know. I shall never have any respect for my- 
self, until I act what I think, and speak what I 
believe. As soon as ijiay be I shall make a journey 
to Valladolid, and if possible save Father Jerome.” 

Let us not dwell on this sad theme longer,” 
said Consuelo. “ If I am such a sorcerer as you 
have described, let me try my skill to dissipate your 
unusual depression.” 

She seized a Moorish zither, and drew her fingers 
across the chords. Soft notes of harmony swept 
through the room. Then she began the song so 
dear to the heart of the Spaniard, the prelude to 
the cancionero of the Cid. 

Hardly had these tones of exquisite sweetness 
ceased, when the door opened without ceremony. 

Sehor don Alfonso, I would speak with you.” 

It was the voice of Maria the housekeeper. 

With the dilatoriness of a true Spaniard, Don 
Alfonso answered, Will not this afternoon do just 
as well ? ” 

“ Sehor, it is important that I speak with you 
directly.” 

Something in the tone aroused Don Alfonso. 
He went into the hall and closed the door. 


212 


FATHER JEROME. 


“ Two monks from the House of the Jesuits at 
Valladolid have just passed through the town,” be- 
gan Maria. 

“ Are they in search of me, do you think ? ” said 
Alfonso with a quickening of the pulse for which 
he despised himself. 

“ Ay de mi, no ! ” replied the housekeeper. 

Why should they suspect a noble Catholic gentle- 
man like yourself, who is so strict in his observance 
of church duties, and who keeps a confessor in his 
own house ? No, senor, do not be alarmed. These 
brethren came to announce a great Auto de Fe 
which is to take place in Valladolid this month. 
The date is not yet fixed, but it is soon. I knew 
that you had friends in whom you were interested, 
and thought that you ought to be informed at 
once.” 

“ I shall start for Valladolid in the morning,” 
said Don Alfonso with decision. “ Tell Jayme to 
prepare everything for my journey, and to be in 
readiness to accompany me.” He then hastened 
to break the news to his wife. 

After the first wild burst of grief had passed. 
Dona Consuelo rose and stood before her husband. 

“ Remember, amigo mio,” she said with flashing 
eyes still gemmed with tears, remember that your 
fate is mine. For my sake have a care ! Be pru- 
dent ! I swear that for love of you, I would go to 
prison and to the stake ! ” 


AN AWAKENED CONSCIENCE. 


213 


Looking into that determined face, Don Alfonso 
realized that here was a will which more than 
equalled his own. 

I will take no unnecessary risks, rest assured 
of that, beloved,” he said, soothing her with all a 
lover’s fondness. You must see for yourself how 
my love for you has made me callous and indiffer- 
ent to everything outside this roof. It is time that 
I awoke from this selfish dream of ease and pleas- 
ure. God has opened my eyes, and henceforth I 
desire to be a more valiant soldier.” 

“ Doha Consuelo smiled, and although" there 
were tears in those passionate eyes, there was a 
gleam of triumph also. She knew how dearly she 
was beloved. She knew that Don Alfonso would 
sacrifice everything, — yes everything, rather than 
imperil her life or her happiness. 

The cords of human love are strong ! 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


THE EVE OF THE AUTO. 

Of that long ride from San Sebastian to Valla- 
dolid Don Alfonso remembered but little. As they 
neared the capitol, all was bustle and excitement. 
A guard stopped them at the city gates. 

Remove your swords, senor ! was the curt 
command. 

The Castilian blood in the young nobleman 
boiled with indignation. 

Wherefore do you address me like that ? he 
demanded. “ Out of my way, caitiff, or by Our 
Lady, thou shalt have a taste of the blade.’’ 

He drew his sword, but another guard stepped 
forward and restrained him. 

We are under orders, senor, from the regent 
herself. It is the eve of the Auto, and no one can 
bear arms in the city to-day. Neither can your 
horses enter. No horse or diligence, even if it car- 
ried King Felipe himself, could enter these gates. 
Our commands are explicit, and we do not dare 
disobey orders.” 


214 


7'HE EVE OF THE AUTO. 


215 


Finding threats and arguments alike useless, 
Don Alfonso and his servant retraced their steps to 
the nearest inn, where they left their weapons and 
their horses. They then directed their steps to the 
city once more. 

Don Alfonso was exceedingly anxious for an in- 
terview with the Lord Inquisitor, and after bidding 
his servant amuse himself for a time, he repaired to 
the magnificent residence adjoining the Santa Casa, 
which was the abode of Gonzales Munebraga. The 
Lord Inquisitor was out driving, but was expected 
to return shortly. The gorgeous palace, the gar- 
dens laden with rare exotics, and the servants in 
costly livery, were in marked contrast to the dismal 
dungeons not many feet away, where the poor 
prisoners of the Inquisition languished. 

Soon the blare of trumpets announced the return 
of the executive. An elegant coach, drawn by four 
horses with gold-trimmed harnesses, dashed into 
sight, accompanied by a small retinue of church- 
men and other dignitaries on horseback. The Lord 
Inquisitor, clad in gorgeous robes, and blazing with 
jewels, stepped from the coach. Don Alfonso im- 
petuously sprang forward and met him face to face. 

“ I crave an immediate audience with your rever- 
ence.’' 

Munebraga cast his eye contemptuously over the 
soiled and dusty apparel of the young man, then he 
replied with his accustomed arrogance, 


2i6 


FATHER JEROME. 


Begone from my sight ! I listen to no com- 
plaints and grant no favors on the eve of the Auto.” 

The elegant retinue swept up the path to the 
palace, and disappeared within to enjoy a sump- 
tuous repast. Don Alfonso stood as if rooted to 
the spot. His opportunity had come and gone, 
and nothing had been gained. 

A monk who had observed this little episode 
stepped forward, and touched him on the arm. 

Father Ambrose,” cried the young nobleman, 
‘‘how glad I am to see you ! You knew and 
loved Jerome. Can you give me any tidings con- 
cerning him ? ” 

“ Let us walk in the garden by the river side,” 
said Father Ambrose. “ We shall be alone there.” 

They strolled along the gravelled walks, until 
they reached a summer-house, which they entered. 

“ Does Jerome appear in the Auto to-morrow? ” 
inquired Don Alfonso in a choked voice. 

“ Our Lady be praised, no ! ” said the old priest. 
“ But they say that if he remains obstinate, he 
will suffer in the next ‘Act of Faith.’ Ay de mi ! 
That I should live to see this calamity ! ” 

“ Will he not recant ? ” 

“ No. He is ready and willing to suffer death.” 

“ Has nothing been done to save him ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. General Borgia has worked day and 
night to try to bring Father Jerome to a sense of 
his sinfulness, and every means known to the In- 


THE EVE OF THE AUTO. 


217 


quisition has been brought to bear upon him; but 
in vain. At the outset, Father Jerome surprised 
the Board of Inquisitors by confessing himself a 
Lutheran. He has endured the Question, and is 
now confined in one of the worst dungeons in the 
prison. He is weak and emaciated, and I hope and 
pray that he may die of prison fever before his 
awful doom can be executed. The prior of the 
Dominican convent has taken an unusual interest 
in this case, and he hinted that another plan might 
be adopted to save Father Jerome. I could not 
gather what he meant by his words, they were so 
vague and unsatisfactory. General Borgia feels 
the situation keenly, for Father Jerome was his 
favorite pupil; and besides, the honor of the So- 
ciety of Jesus is at stake.” 

‘‘ Do you suppose I could gain permission to 
visit him ? ” faltered Don Alfonso. 

‘‘ Do not suggest such a thing if you value your 
liberty,” replied Father Ambrose. I am thankful 
that the Lord Inquisitor denied you an audience. 
He is a V0i*y suspicious man and would have dis- 
trusted you. Your request would have been denied 
pointblank. No one is allowed to visit the prison- 
ers excepting the church officials, and even these 
are limited to the Jesuits and Dominicans. Any 
sympathy fop these unfortunate prisoners would be 
regarded as a symptom of heresy, and for the sake 
of your charming wife, be prudent, Don Alfonso. 


2i8 


FATHER JEROME. 


There are already too many poor captives in yonder 
Holy House.” 

“ Could I not bribe the jailers to at least treat 
Jerome humanely ? They say Galdos is a brute.” 

Possibly,” replied Father Ambrose. '‘Yet I 
have good reasons for believing that the alcalde 
pockets most of the money, and the poor sufferers 
see but little of the results. Still you will have to 
trust to this man’s honor, since there is no other.” 

" Think you that the Lord Inquisitor could be 
bribed into granting me a sight of Jerome’s face ? 
The ' Almighty Dollar ’ is an opener of doors, you 
know.” 

" Banish that thought at once, Don Alfonso. I 
am certain that his Sanctity would resent a bribe. 
So many people have approached him in this way, 
that he is quite sensitive on this point.” 

“ Has the brute a heart ? If so, I entreat you to 
tell me how to reach it. They claim that every man 
has a vulnerable point somewhere in his constitu- 
tion.” 

Father Ambrose thought a moment before re- 
plying. Then he said, " I have only been here a 
few days, on business relating to our friend’s case, 
but in these few days I have seen that the way to 
reach the heart of his Sanctity is through his 
adopted son, a lad of some dozen or fourteen years. 
A handsome present bestowed upon him might 
open his lordship’s heart.” 


THE EVE OF THE AUTO. 


219 


“ It shall be done ! ” said Don Alfonso. 

Sounds of angry voices floated to their ears, suc- 
ceeded by loud cries for help. Father Ambrose 
and Alfonso hurried in the direction of these cries. 
Close to the pier, a large rowboat had anchored, 
and two poorly dressed women were trying to 
alight. A lad, dressed in a gorgeous velvet suit, 
with ruffles, buckles, and jewels in profusion, had 
drawn a toy sword and was striking viciously at 
the defenceless females. 

“ What is the trouble, Don Pablo ? inquired 
Father Ambrose. 

These miserable beggars are trying to land on 
private grounds. I have told them to be off, but 
the fools haven^t the wit to obey.^^ 

Kind Father,’^ said the poor woman, embold- 
ened by the sight of the compassionate face of the 
old priest, “ can you gain an audience for me with 
the Lord Inquisitor ? I*want to beg on my knees 
for tidings of my husband. Three months ago, 
the Alguazils entered our house at midnight, and 
no tidings can I learn concerning his fate.'’ 

“ It will be impossible to approach his sanctity 
until after to-morrow,” said the old priest gently, 
you had better return to your home at once.” 

“ I hope your old man will be burned in the 
Auto to-morrow ! ” cried the boy. “ My ! won’t 
it be rare sport to see those Lutheran dogs dance 
and howl in the flames ! ” 


220 


FATHER JEROME. 


The women burst into tears. Don Alfonso 
sprang forward and seized the lad by his perfumed 
locks and shook him as if he were a terrier. Then 
he took him on the toe of his boot and sent him 
sprawling some distance away. 

“ There, you impudent varlet, learn a lesson in 
manners ! ” he cried, white with passion. 

The boy picked himself up, and with howls and 
curses ran in the direction of the Lord Inquisi- 
tor’s palace. 

Ay de mi ! ” said Father Ambrose with a 
frightened face. ‘‘We are both ruined. Yonder 
lad was his lordship’s darling and the idol of his 
heart, the Don Pablo Munebraga ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


THE ACT OF FAITH. 

Don Alfonso, you must fly, and that at 
once!’' continued Father Ambrose. “Yonder 
scapegrace will bring Munebraga’s servants to ar- 
rest you.” 

“ Things have reached a pretty pass in Spain, 
if a Castilian noble can be arrested for no other 
offence than pulling a saucy boy’s hair,” cried 
Don Alfonso. 

“ For more trivial offences than that his Sanc- 
tity has thrust men into the prisons of the Inquisi- 
tion to die,” said the old priest. “ You must keep 
out of his sight and prefer no requests, as you 
value your liberty. But pray make haste to de- 
part. I will remain and excuse the affair as best 
I can. My good women, will you allow this noble- 
man to return to the city in your boat ? He has 
endangered his life by his rash act.” 

They readily consented, and the boat hastened 
away from this dangerous spot, and none too 
soon. Servants from the palace of Munebraga 

came without delay, to inquire into the disgrace- 

221 


222 


FATHER JEROME. 


ful scene, and to make arrests. Father Ambrose 
was unceremoniously ordered to leave the palace. 

The morning of the 21st of May, 1559, all Val- 
ladolid was astir at sunrise. The lords and ladies 
decked themselves in their bravest attire and has- 
tened to the Great Square where the “ horrible 
and tremendous spectacle ” was to take place. 
Don Alfonso stationed himself at the window of 
a shop, where he could command a view of the 
whole scene. Although Father Ambrose felt con- 
fident that Jerome was not to be sacrificed at this 
Auto, yet Alfonso had misgivings. Until all the 
prisoners had filed past his window, he should not 
feel certain as to his friend’s fate. So in weariness 
and despondency he watched the splendid pageant 
as it swept past. 

A huge scaffold had been erected in the square, 
and in it was an immense cross surrounded by 
twelve lighted tapers. Under a gilded canopy 
near the scaffold, were seated King Felipe’s sister, 
the regent Joanna, and his son, the ill-omened Don 
Carlos, together with a few ladies of high rank. 
First in the procession were bands of school chil- 
dren carrying the cathedral cross, and sweetly 
singing that grand hymn: 

“ Vexilla Regis prodeunt — 

Fulget Crucis mysterium — 

Quo came carnis Conditor 
Suspensus est patibulo.” 


THE ACT OF FAITH 


223 


“ The banner of the King goes forth — 

The Cross, the radiant mystery — 

Where, in the frame of human birth, 

Man’s Maker suffers on the tree.” 

Next came the prisoners who were to be pub- 
licly disgraced. They were ludicrously attired in 
the ugly san benito, which was a yellow coat with- 
out sleeves, and covered with pictures of devils, 
dancing in the flames. A fool’s cap was worn on 
the head. In these robes of infamy they were led 
forth to furnish amusement for this immense 
throng, on this great festival day. 

Don Alfonso gazed eagerly at this little band of 
men and women whom the Inquisition had de- 
clared to be infamous. Some of them he recog- 
nized. There was Juan Garcia the silversmith. It 
was rumored that his wife, who had long been 
jealous of her husband, had dogged his steps one 
night when he attended the regular weekly ses- 
sion of the Lutheran church, and had betrayed the 
Protestants into the hands of the Inquisition. For 
her murderous services she was pensioned for life. 

Don Alfonso recognized the famous advocate 
Antonio de Herezuelo, the two knights Don 
Christobal de Padilla and Don Pedro de Rojas, 
and the three priests, Pedro, Francisco, and Au- 
gustin Cazalla. Their faces were worn and ema- 
ciated, but they wore the proud, triumphant look 
of heroes after a signal victory. 


224 


FATHER JEROME. 


With horror, Don Alfonso saw a band of ladies 
approaching, most of them young and beautiful, 
in spite of their grotesque costumes. There were 
seven nuns of San Belen, Doha Ana de Rojas, 
Doha Beatriz Cazalla, and several other ladies of 
rank. Don Alfonso covered his face with his 
hands and groaned. 

Ay de mi, my Spain ! I am this day made to 
blush for thy terrible deeds ! ” 

There were thirty prisoners in all, and Father 
Jerome was not among the number. With a sigh 
of relief the young nobleman sank back in his 
chair, exhausted by the agonizing mental strain. 
The rest of the spectacle remained unnoticed by 
him. 

Following the prisoners were the prelates and 
high church dignitaries, chanting the fifty-first 
psalm: 

“ Have mercy upon me O God, according to thy loving 
kindness,” 

and the mighty throng united in one^ loud prolonged 
miserere. Next came the Vice-Inquisitor Mune- 
braga on a superb horse, attired in the magnifi- 
cent robes of his office. He, in turn, was followed 
by the Inquisitors with their officials and familiars 
all on horseback, while above them floated the 
crimson flag of the Sacred Office. 

The procession halted in front of the scaffold. 


THE ACT OF FAITH. 


225 


Melchior Cana, Bishop of the Canaries, had been 
imported for this occasion to preach the sermon. 
His oration was a fierce denunciation of heresy, 
and a eulogy on the efficiency of the Holy Office. 
The Inquisition, he graphically described as a 
“ heavenly remedy, a guardian angel of Paradise, 
a lions’ den, in which Daniel and other just 
men could sustain no injury, but in which per- 
verse sinners were torn to pieces.” The Bishop 
then approached the Regent, who was holding 
aloft the holy sword, and administered the oath 
to her majesty, who duly swore upon the crucifix 
to maintain forever the sacred Inquisition and the 
apostolic decrees; to which the Bishop re- 
sponded. 

So may God prosper your Highness and your 
estates ! ” 

The heretics, for the sake of convenience, had 
been divided into two bands: the reconciled and 
the relaxed. There were sixteen of the former, 
and fourteen of the latter. By reconciled ” was 
meant those whom the Holy Church had par- 
doned and granted life, but not liberty. 

Contrast the treatment of the penitent sinner of 
the church of Rome to God’s treatment of the 
same, as set forth in the parable of the Prodigal 
Son. Instead of the best robe, Rome offered a 
robe of infamy; for the Father’s house, lifelong 
imprisonment in the dungeons of the Inquisition; 


226 


FATHER JEROME. 


for the Father’s welcome, averted looks and sol- 
emn anathemas ! 

By the “ relaxed ” were meant those whom the 
Inquisitors found obstinate, and who were handed 
over to the secular arm for execution, because the 
Holy Office was averse to shedding blood. Those 
who at the last recanted were mercifully strangled 
before being cast into the flames. Those who re- 
mained steadfast were burned alive. 

Such was the Spanish Inquisition, a tribunal su- 
perior to human law, owing no allegiance to the 
powers of earth or heaven ! Those who were 
reconciled were now remanded to prison, and the 
remainder were conducted to the Brasero outside 
the city gate. 

Of the fourteen “relaxed ” heretics, twelve were 
declared penitents and were strangled, and only 
their lifeless bodies were consigned to the flames. 
Only two were burned alive — the advocate, An- 
tonio Herezuelo, and the priest, Francisco 
Cazalla. The Fray Augustin Cazalla stood among 
the penitents, for he was considered too important 
a personage to be allowed the full privileges of 
martyrdom. The priests circulated the falsehood 
that he had become reconciled to the Holy 
Church. As he was gagged, he could not refute 
this atrocious lie. Eye-witnesses stated that there 
was such a look of sadness on his countenance as 
moved some to tears. 


THE ACT OF FAITH. 


227 


Mechanically Don Alfonso followed the crowd 
outside the city, to the Quemadero or Burning- 
Place, where twelve lifeless bodies were cast into 
the flames and two living victims heroically met 
their fate. “ Like the song of the lark which floats 
down the air, when the sweet singer itself is no 
longer visible,” so from out the cloud of flame and 
smoke was heard the martyr’s song of triumphant 
praise: 

'' O God, we praise thee ! We bless thee ! We 
give thanks to thee for thy great glory ! Amen 
and Amen ! ” 

At the close of that beautiful spring day, naught 
remained in the Quemadero but a heap of ashes. 
No man dared to gather the despised^ dust, but 
God watched over it, and in his own good time 
he punished the murderers. When Spain de- 
stroyed the men and women whom God had 
raised up to be her leaders and instructors, God 
left her to her fate. As Spain’s Armada was dis- 
persed before the breath of God, so her spiritual 
and intellectual life crumbled into nothing, be- 
cause of its own hollowness. Behold in Spain a 
country where ignorance and fanaticism have been 
allowed full sway ! She has been rent asunder by 
fierce internal warfares, and the instability of her 
institutions has passed into a proverb ! 

“ Though the mills of God grind slowly 
Yet they grind exceeding small ! 


228 


FATHER JEROME, 


Though with patience he stands waiting, 

With exactness grinds he all.” 

Don Alfonso’s conscience troubled him more 
and more. Had he really any kinship with noble 
souls like these ? Could he step boldly forward 
and avow his belief in the reformed doctrines ? 
Was he ready to seal his confession with his 
blood ? No, he could not. He dared not ! These 
men and women possessed something which made 
them insensible to torture, ignominy, and death. 
What was the source of their strength ? Alfonso 
asked himself this question again and again. 
Then the overwhelming thought came to him that 
at the next Auto his friend Jerome would stand 
in the Quemadero, to die the most horrible of 
deaths ! 

Angry with God, with Spain, and most of all 
with himself, Don Alfonso retraced his steps to 
the King’s Inn. 


CHAPTER XXV. 


THE EXPERIMENT. 

The dungeon of Father Jerome was visited one 
day by Father Padilla and Father Gregory. The 
two Jesuits looked with malicious triumph upon 
the worn countenance of the youthful heretic, and 
noted his dismal surroundings. 

Art ready yet to listen to reason ? inquired 
Father Padilla. 

I neither can nor will recant ! ” was the firm 
reply. 

Stung by his obstinacy, Father Gregory made 
answer: There were some heretics last week in 

the Auto at Seville who had been as obstinate as 
you, but when they felt the flames they were only 
too glad to become reconciled. There were Dr. 
Christobal Losada and the Fray Constantino.” 

Has the noble Fray been murdered too ? ” in- 
terrupted Father Jerome. 

“ He was to have suffered death in this Auto, 
but he died in his dungeon of prison fever a few 
days before. His effigy, however, was burned at 

229 


230 


FA THE JEROME. 


the stake. He died reconciled to the church, as 
did Dr. Losada and several other prominent here- 
tics.” 

“ It is a lie ! ” cried Father Jerome. “ You seek 
to slander these noble men, the latchets of whose 
shoes you are unworthy to loosen. With death 
staring me in the face, I cast your infamous lie 
back into your teeth, cruel, heartless men.” 

Exhausted by his passion. Father Jerome sunk 
back on his bed of straw. 

The Jesuits shrugged their shoulders and left 
the cell. They knew full well that they had added 
a drop more of bitterness to the already overflow- 
ing cup. 

While this conversation was going on. General 
Borgia and Father Lantigua were closeted. The 
General had evidently been pleading for Father 
Jerome. 

'Wou must make due allowance for the taint 
of heredity,” he was saying. ‘‘ The stubborn 
Protestant blood runs in his veins, and is now tak- 
ing a natural revenge. I advised his education for 
the priesthood, thinking this the best way to crush 
out the germs of heresy, but I did not make due 
allowance for the law of heredity. The spirit of 
his Protestant ancestry has risen in him, to combat 
the tonsure and the cowl. Surely the name of Va- 
lero has been disgraced sufficiently to enable us to 
deal leniently with this lad, who is really not to 


THE EXPERIMENT. 


231 


blame for his sad inheritance. * What is bred in 
the bone will crop out in the flesh/ you know.” 

The prior looked thoughtful. 

“ There is a great deal of truth in your words/’ 
he said at length. 

Then why not hazard the plan I suggested ? ” 
pursued the General eagerly. 

Father Lantigua remained silent. At last he 
said, Don Manuel Valero, or as we style him 
here, Don Paulos, has been an inmate of the Do- 
minican prison for twenty years. He is a sincere 
penitent if ever there was one. I think his influ- 
ence over Father Jerome would be beneficial. 
Blood is thicker than water, and certainly the ties 
of kinship ought to prove stronger than this new- 
found fanaticism. But I have other reasons for 
favoring you plan. General. Twenty years ago 
I was selected to break the news of her husband’s 
fate to Dolores Valero. Holy Jesus ! I shall 
carry to my grave the look of anguish which came 
over that young face. She called me cruel, and 
those mournful eyes, like Father Jerome’s, have 
haunted me to this day. And I think the young 
creature was right when she called me cruel. I 
feel now, that in my devotion to the Mother 
Church I was needlessly harsh. I made the poor 
thing suffer more than was strictly necessary. I 
should like to make amends for this, by showing 
all the mercy possible to her son. For this reason 


232 FATHER JEROME. 

I am in sympathy with your plan. We have tried 
all the harsh means at our command; let us see 
if tenderness will melt the stony heart. If you will 
accompany me to the palace of the Grand Inquisi- 
tor, we will present our case.” 

General Borgia acquiesced, and the two church- 
men went to execute their mission. 

A few days later, as the shadows of evening were 
falling, Galdos entered Father Jerome’s cell ac- 
companied by the under-jailer, Segura. He bade 
the prisoner to rise and put on the garments which 
he had brought with him. It was impossible for 
the poor tortured limbs to obey without assist- 
ance, and Segura, moved with compassion, helped 
him into the clean clothes. 

Was there some new torture devised with which 
his captors would now torment him ? thought 
Father Jerome, or had they come to lead him 
forth to die ? He cared little as to what their 
errand was. He was like the traveller, who having 
climbed the mountain-top, viewed calmly the 
storm raging below. His soul inhabited the clear 
sunshine of God’s presence. Galdos left the cell a 
moment and Segura whispered. 

Be of good cheer, sehor. You are about to 
be moved to the Dominican prison, at General 
Borgia’s instance. You will receive kind treat- 
ment there, and I am glad that you are to see the 
last of that brute Galdos.” 


THE EXPERIMEHT. 


233 


Father Jerome pressed the jailer’s hand in grate- 
ful silence. The return of Galdos prevented any 
answer. 

It was fortunate that the Dominican convent 
adjoined the Santa Casa, for the poor captive 
could not walk without assistance. In a short time 
he found himself in a comfortable room above 
ground, and plenty of wholesome food was set be- 
fore him. With a heart full of gratitude for this 
improvement in his material condition, he lay 
upon his couch and slept tranquilly. 

The next morning General Borgia and Father 
Lantigua visited him. 

I thank you, kind Fathers, for this change of 
prisons; but if by this mercy' you are seeking to 
convert me, I fear you are doomed to disappoint- 
ment. My fate is sealed, and the sooner death 
comes the better it will be for me. I do not desire, 
your reverences, to enter these comfortable quar- 
ters under false pretences.” 

“ We do not feel that your case is a hopeless one, 
my son,” replied General Borgia. “ I am confi- 
dent that you will soon see and repent of your 
errors. There is not to be another Auto de Fe 
until October, when one will be solemnized on 
King Felipe’s return to Spain. Between this time 
and the first of October, I fully expect that you 
will be reconciled to our Mother Church.” 

We are now about to try the experiment,” said 


234 


FATHER JEROME, 


Father Lantigua, “ of allowing you a companion. 
You are to be permitted to enjoy the society of a 
highly cultured gentleman and a sincere penitent. 
He was once a heretic like yourself; and, like you, 
he uttered bold words, but he was led to see his 
errors and become reconciled to the church. He 
is serving a life imprisonment as a penalty for his 
disobedience. I am hoping much from his edify- 
ing conversation. Give diligent heed to his coun- 
sels and admonitions, I entreat you, that they may 
make you wise unto salvation.” 

May I inquire the name of this remarkable 
penitent ? ” said Father Jerome. 

The prior hesitated a moment. Then he said, 
“ He is known among us as Don Paulos.” 


CHAPTER XXVI. 


DON PAULOS THE PENITENT. 

The room into which Father Jerome was now 
ushered was comparatively large. It had one 
good-sized window which looked out upon an 
open court. There was a table with a lamp upon 
it and several devotional books which had been 
approved by the church. Two chairs and a fairly 
comfortable couch completed the furniture of the 
room. 

When Father Lantigua opened the door, Don 
Paulos was kneeling before a large statue of the 
Virgin and her Babe. They waited in silence until 
he had completed his devotions. 

Don Paulos, I have brought you a companion 
to cheer your solitude,” said the prior. 

The penitent bowed courteously but remained 
silent. He was a man not much more than fifty 
years of age, but he resembled a man of seventy. 
His hair and beard were as white as snow, and his 
figure was bent. Father Jerome did not wonder 
at this, when later he saw him remaining prostrate 
before Our Lady for an hour at a time. And these 

235 


236 


FATHER JEROME, 


protracted devotions were repeated at stated 
intervals throughout the day and night. 

The face of the penitent was attractive, and it 
appealed strangely to Father Jerome. It was re- 
fined and intellectual. Suffering, both physical 
and mental, had ploughed deep furrows on cheek 
and brow, but there was a patient sweetness in his 
expression that was touching. 

Don Paulos did not seem inclined to talk, and 
for several days he paid but little heed to his com- 
panion in solitude. He was courteous, but aside 
from the bare civilities, he did not offer to converse. 
After Father Jerome had roomed with him a week, 
Don Paulos seemed to awake as from a dream, 
and the young man became conscious of the peni- 
tent’s look of searching inquiry. He seemed to 
be rousing from a lethargic sleep, and his be- 
numbed faculties were endeavoring to assert them- 
selves. At last Father Jerome said pleasantly, 

“ What do you find in my countenance so en- 
grossing, Don Paulos ? ” 

The penitent started guiltily as though detected 
in a fault, and replied with hesitation, Your face 
reminds me of one who was as dear to me as my 
own soul. Your eyes are so like hers.” 

A sudden wild thought seemed to seize him. His 
face flushed. His breath came in quick gasps as 
he cried, “ What was your name before you as- 
sumed monastic vows ? ” 


DON PAULO S THE PENITENT. 


237 


Rodrigo Valero/’ said Father Jerome in a 
voice which thrilled with pride. 

The effect of these words upon the penitent was 
appalling. With a low cry, he fell out of his chair 
in a swoon. Surprised and startled at this unusual 
display of emotion, Father Jerome laid him on his 
couch. He chafed the cold hands and poured a 
little wine, which was left from their repast, 
through the closed lips. He soon revived and 
opened his eyes. Seeing the face bending over him, 
he put his arms about the young man’s neck and 
kissed him. 

“ My son, my son ! ” he cried in accents of joy. 

My little Rodrigo ! God has restored you to me, 
unworthy as I am; praised be his name ! ” 

Then as he met Father Jerome’s wondering 
gaze, he added, “You have doubts as to my san- 
ity, Rodrigo. You need have no such fear. My 
name in the world was Don Manuel Valero. I am 
your father.” 

Father Jerome gave such a joyous shout that it 
reached the ears of Father Lantigua. He immedi- 
ately repaired to the cell. Father and son were 
locked in a close embrace, while the elder man 
was lavishing tears and caresses upon the head 
leaning on his breast. It was some moments 
before either prisoner became aware of the prior’s 
presence. 

When Father Jerome discovered him, he arose 


238 


FATHEJi JEROME. 


and bowing respectfully, kissed the Superior’s 
hand. 

“ I cannot find words to express my gratitude 
for your gracious act, your reverence,” he said in 
broken tones. “ I never expected to find my 
father in this world. God will reward you for your 
kind act.” 

Hard-hearted as the prior had become, and ac- 
customed to pathetic scenes, this episode touched 
his heart, and something like a mist rose before his 
eyes. The young priest’s face, so tender and pas- 
sionate, reminded him of another, — a woman’s 
face. He could never recall his experience with 
Dolores Valero without a pang. It was with a 
feeling akin to pleasure that he watched the look 
of delight in the face of Dolores Valero’s son. 

Father Jerome,” he said gently, “ you know 
best what will reward me for the pleasure I have 
afforded you. Imitate your good father’s exam- 
ple, and like him become a sincere penitent. He 
will be only too glad to save your soul and body 
from death. Prove your gratitude to be deeper 
than words, and I shall always be rejoiced to think 
that I hazarded this experiment.” 

The young man’s countenance fell at these 
words. He realized the force of the temptation 
which confronted him. That it would shake his 
faith to the very foundation he knew well. He was 
speechless. 


DON PAULOS THE PENITENT. 


239 


Father Lantigua left the cell greatly encour- 
aged, and reported favorably to General Borgia. 
‘‘ Time is all that is needed,” he said. “Don Paulos 
has found the key to the rebel’s heart, and I have 
little doubt as to the result.” 

When they were once more alone Don Paulos 
said, “ What did Father Lantigua mean when he 
said I was to save your soul and body from 
death ? ” 

“ Father, I am a Lutheran under sentence of 
death, reprieved through the clemency of General 
Borgia and the prior. They interceded for me be- 
fore the Supreme Council.” 

“ But you will recant, will you not ? ” said Don 
Paulos anxiously. 

“ Let us not discuss that subject to-day, father. 
Nothing must mar the joy of our meeting. Rather 
tell me about yourself.” 

The penitent passed his hand over his brow and 
a troubled expression came into his face. “ I, too, 
was a heretic, as was my brother Rodrigo. You 
were named for him, son. I was providentially 
brought to see my sin, and I renounced all my 
errors and returned to the bosom of our Holy 
Church.” 

“ How long have you been here ? ” 

“ Twenty years as nearly as I can remember.” 

“ Did you endure the Question ? ” 

“ No, my son. That anguish was mercifully 


240 


FATHER JEROME. 


Spared me, but a greater one was inflicted. Let 
me try to recall how it happened. I was sent as 
I supposed on a government mission to Madrid. 
When I reached that city, I was arrested and taken 
to Valladolid and incarcerated in the Dominican 
prison. For months I lay in a cell, seeing no one 
but the jailer and two Dominican monks. Father 
Lantigua especially labored with me. He argued, 
pleaded and threatened, until I grew bewildered. 
I pined for freedom, and at last I was told that if 
I would confess my sin, and promise to abjure all 
my errors, I should receive absolution and be re- 
turned to my beloved Dolores. 

“ I believed these words, and I made 'the re- 
quired confession, actuated by my longing to see 
my loved ones. There came to my cell one day 
my half-brother. Count de Menoz. He engaged 
me in conversation, and gave me a goodly quan- 
tity of liquor. When my tongue was unloosened, 
he suggested that I had recanted in order to pro- 
cure my liberty, but that I still believed the Lu- 
theran doctrines. What I replied I have no knowl- 
edge. I remember that we were very hilarious, 
and that my guest remained until far into the eve- 
ning. The next day I was summoned before the 
Tribunal. Witnesses testified that my recantation 
was a fraud, and I was promptly sentenced to im- 
prisonment for life and the perpetual san benito. 

'' I think my reason left me for a time, for of the 


DON PAULOS THE PENITENT. 


241 


next year I have no recollection. All is a blank. 
When I came to my senses, I found myself in this 
room, and here I have remained year after year 
in solitude. News reached me of your mother’s 
death and of your removal to a convent. I was 
told that you were a promising youth, and that 
you were destined to redeem the name of Valero, 
and to purge it from the taint of heresy. Father 
Lantigua has always treated me kindly, and 
through his teachings I have learned to become 
submissive, and to accept what he tells me without 
question. Indeed, without books, I could not de- 
fend the Lutheran doctrines, and I long ago gave 
up the struggle. I desire to pass my last days in 
peace.” 

“ Poor father, how you have suffered ! ” said 
Jerome. 

“ It is all over now,” replied Don Paulos. “ It 
sometimes seems as though I were made of stone 
and could not feel. God has mercifully taken from 
me all longings, and the days pass peacefully.” 

Have your penances been severe ? ” 

“ At the outset they were. My first penance 
was to be stripped and beaten by the priests with 
rods, from the door of my prison to the church, 
three Sundays in succession. Now it is all differ- 
ent. I keep three Lents during the year. For oc- 
cupation I recite the service of the church day and 
night. I repeat the Pater nosters seven times dur- 


242 


FATHER JEROME. 


ing the day, ten times during the evening, and 
twenty times at midnight. Besides this, I sleep a 
great deal, read my breviary, and at rare intervals, 
I have been allowed pen, ink, and paper, so that 
I could write down my thoughts for the edification 
of other penitents. I had become so accustomed 
to solitude, that I demurred when Father Lan- 
tigua said you were coming. He knows best, as 
he always does,” concluded Don Paulos with a do- 
cility which showed how thoroughly the Superior 
had broken the will of his victim and held him in 
subjection. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 


CONDEMNED. 

The days passed swiftly and pleasantly to Don 
Paulos and his son. The weeks glided into 
months. Father Jerome sought continually to re- 
vive in his father’s mind recollections, well-nigh 
forgotten or deeply buried, of the words of Christ. 
It was slow, uphill work to rouse the drowsy, 
apathetic mind. The penitent’s sensibilities had 
been benumbed, and it would take years to bring 
his faculties to their normal condition, if indeed it 
ever could be done. 

Father Jerome related his own experience. He 
quoted his conversation with Fray Constantino 
and Don Carlos de Seso. He repeated daily such 
passages of Scripture as were suited to his father’s 
present condition of mind and body. That his 
words produced some effect was evident in his ap- 
pearing to take less interest in his acts of devotion, 
and in sometimes unconsciously failing to pros- 
trate himself before Our Lady at the appointed 
times. 


243 


244 


FATHER JEROME. 


‘‘ How did my uncle Rodrigo learn the truth ? ” 
inquired Jerome one day. 

Don Paulos evinced strong emotion as he re- 
plied, “ Rodrigo had no teacher but God’s Spirit. 
He was suddenly possessed with the idea that he 
must read the Bible. The only available one was 
the Latin Vulgate. In order to read this, it be- 
came necessary for him to revive his half-forgotten 
studies. He worked day and night, until he had 
mastered the Latin language. Then he read the 
Bible and he found there truths which were 
precious to his soul. He was not content, but 
must needs tell every one of the good news. He 
labored especially with the clergy, because he said 
the priests were raising barriers between God and 
men, and their vices were disgusting men with the 
name of religion. As you may well suppose, the 
clergy received his words with scorn. They 
taunted him with being an unlettered gentleman, 
and they demanded his authority. He directed 
them to the word of God.” 

Did none of the priests hear him gladly ? ” 

Yes. Rodrigo talked with Dr. Juan Gil, who 
was at that time canon-magistral of Seville, and 
advised him to search the Scriptures as the source 
of living truth. He did so, and great success at- 
tended his preaching. Then there was Dr. Vargas 
and Dr. Constantino de la Fuente, both of whom 
were converted by Rodrigo’s words. Your uncle 


CONDEMNED, 


245 


Rodrigo was a good man, my son. God forgive 
me if I sin in saying so. He died under the ban of 
the church, which is a dreadful thing. The last 
words I ever heard him utter were these: ‘None 
can close the doors of the church triumphant 
against me, for the keys thereof belong not to 
man.’ Had Rodrigo been a poor, obscure man he 
would have been burned at the stake, as was San 
Roman in Valladolid, some years later. But he 
had rich and powerful relatives who interceded for 
him. Rodrigo was punished with a living death, 
a fate harder for one with his active, sanguine tem- 
perament to bear than the chariot of fire would 
have been.” 

“ My uncle,” said Father Jerome, “ was the her- 
ald who went forth and announced the battle. He 
made a way for the rest to follow. Oh, my father, 
if you only knew what a glorious harvest has 
sprung from the seed which he sowed, you would 
rejoice. I can conceive no nobler mission than 
his. Oh, my honored father, will you not believe 
those precious words of Christ again, and be happy 
in him ? ” 

The penitent shook his head sadly. “ The past 
is gone from me, my son. The fount of my affec- 
tions is frozen. When they told me that my be- 
loved Dolores was dead, something gave way in 
my heart, and I cannot feel any emotion.” 

Just then Father Lantigua and General Borgia 


246 


FATHER JEROME. 


entered the room. It was now time to bring mat- 
ters to a crisis. After a few questions concerning 
their ijiaterial welfare, General Borgia turned to 
Father Jerome and said, 

My son, we have been much pleased with your 
mental attitude since you have been here. You 
have been both grateful and submissive. The time 
has now arrived for me to ask you if you will be- 
come a penitent like your father, and return to the 
bosom of the Holy Church ? ” 

A look of pain crossed Father Jerome’s face. 

“ Think me not ungrateful, I beg of you,” he 
said, “ but my decision has not been changed one 
iota since the day I entered this room. I am a 
Lutheran, and as such I will die. To equivocate 
or to profess a different faith would be to deny 
my Lord. In these long months of weary anguish, 
he has become a real presence, and although in- 
visible, he is dearer to me than an earthly friend.” 

General Borgia covered his face with his hands 
and groaned. 

“ My son ! My son ! Why are you determined 
to destroy yourself, body and soul ? ” 

Father Lantigua now spoke. 

Do you not realize that you are a condemned 
heretic, doomed to suffer death by fire ? The Su- 
preme Council has pronounced this sentence upon 
you, if you continue obstinate. In a week another 
solemn Act of Faith will be observed, to celebrate 


CONDEMNED. 


247 


the nuptials of our pious King Felipe and his 
youthful bride. You shall have one more day in 
which to decide your fate.” 

During this conversation Don Paulos listened like 
one who was hearing a revelation. Indeed his mind 
was in such a condition that he had not realized 
that his son was under sentence of death and 
would one day be torn from his arms. The sharp 
tones of the prior, and the familiar phraseology of 
the Inquisition, made everything clear to his mind. 

With a cry like that of a wounded animal, Don 
Paulos fell upon his knees, and embraced the 
prior’s feet. 

'' Spare me, your reverence ! ” he cried in pite- 
ous tones. “ Do not deprive me of my son ! 
Pity an old man whose life has been wrecked. 
Have you not bereft me of enough already ? You 
cannot be so cruel as to cast my Rodrigo into the 
flames ! Oh, no ! you are kind ! You are good ! 
You will let my punishment, which has lasted for 
twenty years, suffice for us both.” Heavy sobs 
choked his utterance. Signs of a sharp mental 
struggle were visible on the prior’s face. 

“ Rise, Don Paulos ! ” he said not unkindly. 

You know not what you ask. I should be an un- 
worthy servant of the church if I heeded your re- 
quest and mitigated the punishment which yonder 
apostate richly deserves. Do not plead with me. 
Rather plead with your ungrateful son. His fate 


248 


FATHER JEROME, 


is in his hands, not mine. He has only to say the 
word and the sentence of death will be commuted. 
Address yourself therefore to him. To-morrow at 
this time we will return for his final answer.” 

The anguish of the next twenty-four hours we 
will pass over in reverent silence. The father’s 
grief, his passionate pleadings, were to Father 
Jerome like the stab of a lancet on an inflamed 
surface. But he remained firm, and Don Paulos 
at last ceased to plead. 

The next forenoon General Borgia appeared at 
the appointed hour. His face was stern and white. 

“ Your final answer, what is it ? ” he said in 
harsh tones. 

“ The same as yesterday. I shall never recant.” 

The Jesuit looked at the sorrowful yet trium- 
phant young face with more of pity than anger. 

“ Then I will bid you farewell. I shall see you 
no more. Words are now useless. I am disap- 
pointed in you. Prepare to meet your ignomini- 
ous death this day week.” 

Turning on his heel he left the room. 

Father Jerome realized that his earthly day was 
ending. The night with its welcome repose was 
near at hand. Soon into the golden harvest-home 
the weary servant would enter with rejoicing, 
bringing his sheaves with him. 

Some days later one of the Dominican lay 


CONDEMNED. 


249 


brethren was conversing with a handsome gypsy 
girl. 

“ A brighter pair of eyes I never saw,” he said, 
pinching the olive cheek, “ and as for those lips ! 
By the Mass ! for one kiss, a man would grant 
you any request ! ” 

“ Your words are brave, but I will put them to 
the test,” said Carmen, for it was the daughter of 
the gypsy chief who spoke. “ I know one of the 
captives in yonder prison. He once did me a great 
kindness. If you could manage to give him this 
loaf of bread of my making, and this luscious 
bunch of grapes, I will pay you the price you ask.” 

What is the prisoner’s name, fair gypsy ? ” 

‘‘ Father Jerome Ortiz.” 

The lay brother hesitated. “ It is a very risky 
thing to do. Father Jerome is a notorious apos- 
tate. He dies the day after to-morrow in the great 
Auto.” The brother looked longingly at those 
tempting lips. 

“ Still,” he added, after a moment’s pause, I 
may be able to do it.” 

‘‘Very well. Father,” replied Carmen, “I will 
wait in yonder hedge while you deliver my present. 
When you take your oath that you have executed 
my commission faithfully, you shall be duly re- 
warded.” 

The gypsy smiled and showed a row of pearly 


250 


FATHER JEROME, 


teeth. Intoxicated by the sight of so much love- 
liness, the lay brother hastened to the convent. 

After a short absence he reappeared. 

Your request has been fulfilled,” he said, laying 
his hand on the crucifix. 

A tender look came into the gypsy’s face, which 
the brother was quick to note. He would have 
been much chagrined had he known that Carmen 
was thinking of the suffering captive in his cell, 
instead of himself. 

You have done well ! ” she said at length. I 
will keep my part of the bargain.” 

Thereupon she held up her scarlet lips, with an 
inward sense of loathing and disgust toward the 
round, good-natured, expressionless face of the 
Dominican friar. 

“ With a kiss I have helped to unlock your 
prison door, good Father Jerome,” thought the 
maiden as she sped away as agile as a deer. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


A RASH ACT. 

Let us return to Don Alfonso. 

Disheartened at his meagre success, he had re- 
turned to San Sebastian, after exacting a promise 
from Dona Inez that she would inform him of the 
date of the next Auto in season for him to reach 
Valladolid. The word came in due time. The 
great Auto was to be held the 8th of October, as a 
sort of nuptial celebration for King Felipe, who 
had just espoused the youthful Isabella of France. 
Fray Domingo de Rojas, Don Carlos de Seso, his 
servant Juan Sanchez, and Father Jerome Ortiz 
were to be burned alive, as “ professed impenitent 
heretics.’’ These human beings were to be the 
blazing torches which should light this second 
Nero to his nuptial couch. 

At the request of Felipe, the pope issued a bull 
which was addressed to the Grand Inquisitor Val- 
dez, directing him to consign to the flames all 
prisoners whatever, even those who were not ac- 
cused of having '' relapsed.” Llorente, the Span- 
ish historian, said, Had the king and the inquisi- 

251 


252 


FATHER JEROME. 


tors never committed any other evil, this alone 
would be sufficient to consign their names to eter- 
nal infamy.” 

Great preparations were therefore being made 
to strike terror to the hearts of all heretics, and to 
gratify the king’s savage bigotry. Don Alfonso, 
half distracted by his longings to see his beloved 
friend once more, and maddened with rage at the 
merciless inquisitors, arrived in Valladolid two 
days before the Auto. 

It was evening. The young nobleman bade his 
servant wait for him at the King’s Inn, and then 
hardly knowing what he did, he walked in the di- 
rection of the House of the Jesuits. A wild, irre- 
sistible longing came over him to confront Father 
Jerome’s old instructor, and to denounce the great 
general to his face. To be sure, curses were futile, 
but they would help to relieve the terrible tension 
of his brain. He knocked loudly upon the door. 
It was approaching the midnight hour, and it was 
some moments before the sleepy lay brother an- 
swered the imperative summons. 

‘‘ Is General Borgia within ? ” 

‘‘ He is.” 

“ Tell him that I desire an audience with him 
at once.” 

The brother looked at the wild, haggard face, 
as though he doubted the sanity of the man before 
him. He hesitated. 


A RASH ACT. 


253 


‘‘ The hour is late, sehor, and the general is at 
his private devotions in the oratory. I do not like 
to disturb him.” 

Don Alfonso uttered a terrible oath. Taking 
his purse from his pocket, he flung it down before 
the lay brother. “ Take that ! ” he said hoarsely, 
and gain for me an interview with the general.” 
With a deprecating gesture, the brother picked 
up the purse and slipped it between the folds of 
his robe. Then he said, “ What name shall I an- 
nounce to his reverence ? ” 

“ Don Alfonso de Menillo, a friend of that con- 
demned heretic. Father Jerome Ortiz.” 

The lay brother looked disturbed at the mention 
of the degraded Jesuit monk, and hastily crossed 
himself. He then proceeded to deliver his mes- 
sage. He returned directly, with the assurance 
that his Excellency would receive Don Alfonso 
with pleasure. 

As he entered the oratory. General Borgia sa- 
luted the young nobleman with a courteous, Pax 
Vobiscum, my son.” 

Don Alfonso made no reply, but glared at the 
Jesuit with angry eyes. Then he said fiercely. 
Dare you prate to me of peace ? Know you not 
that I love Jerome Ortiz as a brother ? Fiend, 
murderer that you are, I scorn the peace which 
you presume to cast in my face ! ” 

General Borgia turned pale, and grasped his 


254 


FATHER JEROME. 


rosary with clenched fingers. He was no coward, 
but the presence of an armed madman at midnight 
was, to say the least, rather startling. 

You use questionable language, Don Alfonso. 
If you have any regard for your liberty, you had 
better keep your anger within bounds. Knowing 
your affection for your apostate friend, I am will- 
ing to grant you forgiveness for your offensive 
words.” 

‘‘ I want not your forgiveness ! ” said Don Al- 
fonso. I came to you at this time, that for once 
in your life you should hear plain speaking. You 
and the other members of the Holy Tribunal are 
murderers, children of the devil ! You betray and 
shed innocent blood ! The purest and noblest of 
the sons and daughters of Spain you have put to 
death or doomed to perpetual imprisonment. I 
curse you, yes curse you, for your infamous work I 
Nay more, I beg on my bended knees that God’s 
curse may rest upon you, when you rise up in the 
morning and when you lie down at night ! ” 

General Borgia had tried in vain to check this 
torrent of fierce invectives, but Don Alfonso did 
not stop until his breath failed. 

“ Did I not think you mad, young man,” said 
the Jesuit sternly, “ I should order your immediate 
arrest. “ As it is, I will summon the lay brother 
to show you the door. I will not lower myself to 
talk farther with you. When you have regained 


A RASH ACT. 


255 


control of your passion, I will grant you another 
interview/" 

He reached for the bell, but with one bound 
Don Alfonso sprang to his side and grasped his 
arm. 

^'You shall hear me. General Borgia. I will 
speak, and no one shall hinder me. The blood of 
the innocent cries from the ground. It is time 
that the stones of which yonder Santa Casa is 
built were moved to mutiny, at the terrible work 
of destruction which goes on within those unhal- 
lowed walls. How long, O Lord, wilt thou wait ? 
When wilt thou arise to avenge the blood of thy 
saints ? Remember one thing. General Borgia. 
There cometh a day when God, the righteous 
Judge, shall smite the earth till it trembles: the 
sun shall become as sackcloth, the moon shall turn 
to blood, the stars shall fall from the heavens, and 
the firmament shall be shrivelled like a scroll, the 
islands shall flee, and the everlasting mountains 
shall sink down in dismay at the dread approach 
of Jehovah. And where, O Jesuit, think you, shall 
guilty man be found, in that awful day ? The 
great Avenger will plant his foot upon his neck, 
and he shall taste from that two-edeged sword the 
wrath of God, which he has braved too fiercely 
and too long."" 

‘‘ Enough ! said General Borgia. “ You for- 
get that you are addressing a servant of Jesus.’" 


256 


FATHER JEROME. 


It is not the least of your offences that you use 
the name of Jesus to sanction all these crimes/’ 
Unconsciously Don Alfonso relaxed his hold of 
the Jesuit’s arm, and a loud peal rang throughout 
the house. 

“ You have been speaking under the stress of 
great mental excitement,” said General Borgia, 
and I do not consider your insane ravings worth 
repeating. But I do consider it necessary to in- 
quire into your religious belief. You have been 
under suspicion before now, but the matter was 
dropped on account of your distinguished- rela- 
tives, and also because you behaved in an ortho- 
dox manner. After this disgraceful procedure on 
your part, I warn you that your case will be at- 
tended to in the near future. For the sake of the 
eminent services which your uncle, the Count de 
Menillo, has rendered the church, I give you this 
hint, which you may take for what you consider it 
worth.” 

The lay brother now appeared. “ Show the 
Sehor Don Alfonso the door. Our interview is 
ended.” General Borgia then returned to his in- 
terrupted devotions. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


A RAY OF HOPE. 

The next morning, Don Alfonso bethought 
himself of a last resort to save, or at least reprieve, 
his friend’s life: namely, to win the favor of the 
king’s bride. 

The royal couple had been magnificently enter- 
tained at several of the important cities of Spain. 
There had been presented for their enjoyment 
bull-fights, the Moorish sport of the canas or tilt 
of reeds, tournaments on horseback and on foot, 
in which Philip, armed cap-a-pie, did his devoir in 
the presence of his lovely consort and won her 
gentle plaudits. At Toledo, especially, the prepa- 
rations for the reception of the royal pair were on 
a grand scale, and were worthy the renown of that 
ancient capital of the Visigoths. Philip and his 
bride had now arrived in Valladolid, to witness the 
solemn Auto de Fe. 

Don Alfonso arrayed himself with great care, 
and hastened to the palace, and besought the 
grand chamberlain, with whom he was acquainted, 

257 


258 


FATHER JEROME. 


to grant him a brief audience with the queen. The 
chamberlain refused to carry his request to her 
Majesty. 

Our gracious queen is resting, and your er- 
rand must wait. I would not disturb her at this 
time for a handful of ducats. Return this after- 
noon, and I will see what I can do for you.” 

“ That will be too late to serve my purpose,” 
replied Don Alfonso. For the love of God grant 
me one moment’s speech with her ! ” 

“ It is impossible ! ” 

“ How so ? ” inquired a gentle voice from 
above. “ I beg of you, my lord chamberlain, not 
to deprive me of the pleasure of assisting my sub- 
jects when they have need.” 

The youthful queen appeared on the stairs ac- 
companied by her maid of honor. She was only 
fifteen years of age, but tall and comely, with dark 
eyes and delicate features. There was a sweetness 
mingled with the dignity of her deportment, which 
endeared her to all. 

“ So attractive was she,” writes the biographer 
of her reign, “ that no cavalier durst look on 
her long, for fear of losing his heart, which in 
that jealous court might have proved the loss of 
his life.” As her marriage with Felipe had formed 
one of the articles in the treaty with France, she 
was named by the Spaniards “ Isabel de la Paz,” 
Isabella of the Peace. Her own gountrymen no 


A RAY OF HOPE. 259 

less fondly styled her the Olive Branch of 
Peace,” indicating her sweetness of disposition. 
It was apparent to all that the savage, morose 
Philip was infatuated with his girl-bride, and he 
lavished upon her those lover-like attentions for 
which his former wife, Mary Tudor, pined in vain. 

The chamberlain was confused at the sudden ap- 
pearance of the queen, and stammered his apolo- 
gies, which were graciously accepted. 

“ What do you desire, noble caballero ? ” she 
asked, turning to Don Alfonso. 

A moment’s private audience with your Ma- 
jesty, to prefer a request.” 

The queen motioned the young man toward a 
small but lofty room, its casements looking out 
on the richly carved front of San Pablo. This 
room was a species of closet, such as is often found 
in palaces, and is quite often used for private au- 
diences, or as a royal retiring room. The walls 
were hung with rich tapestries, illustrating the tri- 
umphs of the Cid Campeador. The furniture was 
of exquisite design. Steel mirrors, in elegant 
frames, reflected the sunshine. 

“ Most noble and illustrious sovereign,” began 
Don Alfonso, “ I crave your pardon for obtruding 
myself so unceremoniously, but my errand is one 
of life or death. I came to ask you to intercede 
with the king for the life of one of those unfor- 
tunate heretics who is doomed to die to-morrow. 


26 o 


FATHER JEROME. 


in the flames of the Auto. O, noble queen, you 
have a kind and merciful heart! No man 
looking into your face could refuse you anything. 
Plead with the king for the life of my friend, and 
the world will ring with praises for your merciful 
act.” 

You request is a singular one, senor caballero. 
Is your friend a penitent ? ” 

“ Not in the sense you mean,” replied Don Al- 
fonso hesitatingly. “ His conscience forbids him 
to recant. But he is a noble man and as dear to 
me as a brother.” 

The queen looked displeased. ‘‘ You ask an im- 
possible favor from my hands, senor. I cannot ask 
the king for the life of a professed impenitent 
heretic. I would not dare to anger my lord and 
sovereign to the extent of seeking his presence 
to plead for the life of an obstinate rebel. Had 
your friend been a penitent, the case would be dif- 
ferent. Did you not know, that since the ship- 
wreck which occurred when the king was return- 
ing from the Netherlands, he has devoted the 
remainder of his life to the grand mission of exter- 
minating heresy from his domains ? I also am a 
Catholic, and although I do not like unnecessary 
cruelty and suffering, it seems right to me that 
those who reject mercy should die.” 

“ Then there is no hope for my friend ? ” 

Don Alfonso in despair. 


said 


A I^AY OF HOPE. 


261 

None whatever, unless he recants,’^ replied 
Isabella. “ But I would save you from the same 
fate,” she added, with an admiring glance at the 
handsome, gloomy face. ‘‘ If I should report this 
interview, your arrest would be certain to follow. 
But I will not betray you. Have you a family ? ” 
“ I have a beloved wife.” 

My advice to you, sehor, is this: Take your 
wife and reside out of Spain until these troublous 
times are over. Your interest in this heretic must 
have been noticed, especially if you have spoken as 
rashly elsewhere as you have here. Flee while yet 
there is an opportunity. And now adios, sehor 
Caballero. I am sorry that I can do nothing to re- 
lieve your distress.” 

Don Alfonso pressed a fervent kiss on the hand 
that was graciously extended to him, and mur- 
mured inarticulate thanks. As he was about leav- 
ing the audience chamber, his eyes rested on a 
full-length portrait of the king. The artist had 
faithfully copied the insignificant, narrow-chested 
figure, the countenance with its broad forehead, 
light blue eyes, and aquiline nose. The lower part 
of his face resembled some wild beast’s with its 
heavy hanging lip, vast mouth, and protruding 
jaw. The expression of the face was false and 
cruel, “ the serene incarnation of passionless evil.” 
One who knew his character well, said that “ his 
dagger followed close upon his smile.” 


262 


FA THER JEROME, 


Looking upon this vindictive, sensual face, and 
realizing for the first time in his life the real char- 
acter of the man, he could have spurned the 
sovereign whom he once ignorantly adored. 

Discouraged and sad, Don Alfonso wandered 
forth into the street. A countryman jostled rudely 
against him, and recalled his wandering senses. 

A thousand pardons, noble caballero; ” then 
with a look of recognition the man said, “ Have I 
the distinguished honor of addressing the senor 
Don Alfonso de Menillo ? ” 

That is my name.” 

You are the friend of Father Jerome Ortiz 
who dies to-morrow ? ” 

Don Alfonso’s face blanched, but he answered 
without hesitation, I am.” 

“ Will your lordship please step aside into this 
alley for a moment ? ” said the countryman; I 
have something to say to you which will interest 
you.” 

Don Alfonso complied. 

Lowering his voice to a whisper, the stranger 
said, “ I am Benito, the gypsy chief, upon whose 
head a price has been set. Father Jerome Ortiz 
once did me a noble service, and I promised him 
that if he ever needed help I would give my life to 
aid him. I have a plan on foot which, if it suc- 
ceeds, will set your friend free to-night. Should 
you like to help us ? ” 


A J^AY OF HOPE. 


263 


“ Most assuredly,” was the eager response. 

“ Then I will tell you what to do. Take a good 
rest to-day. Then after disguising yourself and 
your servant, ride out of the city at sunset, well 
armed. Halt in the vicinity of the Devil’s Cross, 
and conceal yourselves until we appear about mid- 
night. I am afraid we may have trouble with the 
Hermandad, in which case we shall need your as- 
sistance.” 

With a look of joy, Don Alfonso grasped his 
companion’s hand. “ God will certainly reward 
you for your kindness. May his blessing attend 
your steps.” 

He then repaired quickly and with a light heart 
to the King’s Inn. 


CHAPTER XXX. 


THE ESCAPE. 

Father Jerome and Don Panics did not again 
refer to the terrible Auto de Fe. The morning 
before this horrible spectacle was to take place, 
one of the Dominican lay brothers brought a small 
loaf of bread and a fine bunch of grapes into the 
cell. 

“ These are from a gypsy maiden,” he said. 
‘‘ She desired me to bring these tokens of remem- 
brance.” 

The brother retired to keep his tryst, and Father 
Jerome looked at these gifts with interest. Car- 
men, the gypsy maid, must have sent them ! He 
had almost forgotten her existence, having seen 
her only once or twice since he rescued her from 
the clutches of Don Luis de Menoz. Her grati- 
tude, and her father’s promise of help in time of 
peril flashed across his mind. When the door of 
the cell had closed, he seized the wheaten loaf and 
tore it apart. His father watched him in astonish- 
ment. A slip of paper rewarded his search. On 

264 


TttE Escape. 


26$ 


it were scrawled these words: “ Eat and sleep well 
to-day. Your friends will attempt a rescue to- 
night. Be on the watch for us.” 

Father Jerome had long ago relinquished all 
hope of life. When he read this cheering an- 
nouncement he was surprised to find what delight- 
ful sensations of hope pervaded his being. His 
pulse beat tumultuously. Life, freedom, Dona 
Irene, could they be for him ? 

He fell upon his knees and audibly returned 
thanks to God. Then turning to Don Paulos, he 
said, Father, my beloved father ! if an honorable 
escape from these hateful prison walls were pos- 
sible, would you fly with me ? ” 

It was some moments before this great an- 
nouncement penetrated the sluggish brain. When 
he finally comprehended, Don Paulos said. 
Whither thou goest I will go. But are you not 
deceiving yourself with a false hope, my son ? I 
never heard of a prisoner escaping from the 
clutches of the Inquisition.” 

“We are not in the Santa Casa, father. The 
system of espionage is not as rigid in the Domini- 
can prison as there. I have unbounded faith in 
Benito, the gypsy chief, and he will save us or 
perish in the attempt.” 

“ Perhaps he cannot save both of us, my son. 
If so, leave me, and save yourself. You are young. 
JLife will blossom for you again. As for me, the 


266 


FA THE JEROME. 


springs of enjoyment are forever dried. At the 
longest, I can live but a few years more.” 

“ I shall never forsake you, my father. If both 
of us cannot walk out of these prison doors, both 
of us will remain. Paciencia, dear father ! We are 
in God’s hands. Let us await his providence in 
calm submission.” 

Father Jerome laid himself on his couch and was 
directly sleeping as sweetly as a child. His father 
imitated his example. 

It was a dark, gloomy evening. A drizzling rain 
had set in late in the afternoon, and the night 
promised to be a disagreeable one. A solemn 
Chapter was being held in the Santa Casa, at 
which Father Lantigua, General Borgia, and the 
other members of the Holy Tribunal met, in order 
to perfect arrangements for the Auto de Fe. 

Twenty-nine heretics were to appear on the 
morrow. Sixteen were reconciled and thirteen 
were to receive the death penalty. 

During the absence of the prior the rules of the 
convent were observed with less vigilance, and this 
fact was known to the two men who were waiting 
in the shadow of a clump of trees for a favorable 
moment for action. These men were clad in the 
black robes and cowls worn by the spies of the 
Inquisition, and carried lanterns. 

The clock in the cathedral tower had just 
chimed the hour of nine, when these two Familiars 


THE ESCAPE. 


267 


Stepped boldly to the front entrance to the con- 
vent, and knocked loudly. The lay brother an- 
swered the summons. 

“We have a message to give you for the prior,’’ 
said Benito. 

The brother ushered them into the convent par- 
lor, and before he realized what manner of men his 
visitors were, a heavy hand was laid across his 
mouth, his arms and legs were tied, and a gag in- 
serted in his mouth, so that in an incredibly short 
time the lay brother was a helpless captive. 

“ What shall we do with him, Christy ? ” 

“ Here is a large clothes-press. Shove him in 
there and lock the door. Here is the bunch of 
keys. Let us attend to our mission at once.” 

Giving the Dominican a vicious kick into the 
closet, the gypsies set out on their perilous under- 
taking. 

The cells were on the opposite side of the build- 
ing from where they were. The long corridors 
were traversed in safety. The monks had retired, 
each to his room to engage in special devotions 
for the souls of the heretics, and for the welfare of 
the Holy Church. They now descended a flight 
of stone steps, and found themselves in a wide 
corridor, on each side of which were ranged cells. 
The walls were granite, and the blocks were se- 
curely cemented together. The doors of the cells 
were of massive timbers, heavily barred with iron. 


268 


I^'ATHER JEROME, 


The Santa Casa being crowded, some of the 
prisoners had been transferred to this prison for 
safe keeping. 

This,” whispered Benito, taking up a key 
which was larger than the rest, and which was of 
curious workmanship, I suspect is the master- 
key, and will fit the locks on all the cells. Carmen 
said that the window of Father Jerome’s cell 
looked out on the court, so he must be somewhere 
on the right side of the corridor.” 

Benito commenced with the first cell, and un- 
locked the massive door. A man who lay upon a 
straw bed moved uneasily, then lifting his head he 
cried in affright, “ Hast thou come to torture me 
more ? ” The face was not that of Father Jerome, 
and Benito quietly closed and locked the door. At 
the door of the next cell he breathed rather than 
spoke the words, “ Father Jerome ! ” 

There was no response, and they moved noise- 
lessly to the next door 'and repeated the same 
words. 

Here ! ” came the reply in soft tones. 

Benito turned the key in the lock and both men 
entered. The chief then locked the door on the 
inside. 

Father Jerome and Don Paulos were awaiting 
their visitors with suppressed excitement. Turn- 
ing to Benito, Father Jerome said, “ This is my 
father, who has been shut up within these walls 


THE ESCAPE. 269 

for twenty years. Unless he can escape with me, 
I shall not leave this cell.” 

The gypsy chief turned to Christy. 

“ Didst thou bring the extra suit ? ” 

^‘Yes, master.” 

Then your father can accompany us in safety. 
Please don these suits quickly, sehors.” 

Benito and his man had each concealed under 
their robes an extra suit of the same kind, which 
they now produced. The captives were soon ar- 
rayed in the hateful garments of the Familiars. 

Hasty footsteps were now heard coming down 
the corridor. The prior had unexpectedly re- 
turned, and hearing unusual sounds from below, 
he had hastened to learn their meaning. He was 
accompanied by Father Padilla, who desired to 
test and to taunt his victim once more before the 
morrow. 

Benito hastily covered his robe over the lan- 
terns. A look was on his dark face which be- 
tokened ill to those who dared oppose his exit 
from this dismal place. The blood froze in Father 
Jerome's veins, and he shivered. Don Paulos 
looked like one bereft of reason. 

The footsteps came nearer. Benito drew a dag- 
ger and motioned his companion to do the same. 
Some one took a key and fitted it in the lock, and 
the door of the cell was thrown open. Father Lan- 
tigua held up a lantern, and looked in surprise at 


270 


FATHER JEROME, 


what appeared to be four Familiars and no prison- 
ers. A sudden conviction dawned upon him. 

“ There is treachery here ! ” he exclaimed. 

In a trice Christy was upon him, while Benito 
seized the Superior of the House of the Jesuits. 
Both of the gypsies were strong and sinewy, and 
they had no difficulty in binding and gagging the 
surprised churchmen. A cry of pain and a howl 
of rage had been uttered at the outset, but as such 
sounds were of common occurrence in Holy 
Houses,’^ no attention was paid to them. Benito 
had stripped the robe from Father Padilla, and 
tearing it into strips, he had the wherewithal to 
bind these unfortunate churchmen, hand and foot. 

Lie there, you demons ! ’’ he muttered, as he 
assisted then) to the bed of straw, with sundry elo- 
quent kicks and shoves. I hope you will have to 
lie there and rot until the judgment day. You 
may have this to comfort you, that this night 
Father Jerome and Don Paulos will be free men. 
I will kill any man who opposes me this night. I 
would not hesitate to kill you both, had not Father 
Jerome just begged for your worthless lives.’’ 

Christy began to show signs of impatience. 

Let us be off, chief. We have already stayed 
here longer than we planned. Good-night, your 
reverences. I trust you will have refreshing slum- 
bers and pleasant dreams.” With this expression 
of grim humor, Benito and his companions left 




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THE ESCAPE, 


27 


the cell, carefully locking the door after them. 
Then two by two they passed down the corridor. 
Before they reached the stone steps, footsteps 
were heard in the upper corridor. “ Some one 
else is coming down here ! ’’ whispered Benito. 
“We must hide.” There were at regular inter- 
vals, niches, and obscuring the light from the lan- 
terns, the little party anxiously awaited events. 
The door at the head of the stairs opened, and a 
couple of friars began the descent. Evidently 
they were in search of Father Lantigua. They 
first went to cell No. i, and opening the door en- 
tered, closing the door behind them. Benito crept 
cautiously from his hiding-place and slipped a large 
iron bolt, making the friars prisoners. Then with 
the assistance of the chief and Christy, the feeble 
captives were hurried up the steps. They met no 
one in the upper corridor, although they could 
hear the monks chanting the service of the church. 
In a few moments they were outside the convent, 
and were breathing God’s pure air. The sense of 
impending danger, instead of paralyzing the cap- 
tives, steadied their nerves for the time being. 

Suddenly the little party came upon a squad of 
soldiers, who were prowling about the city, sing- 
ing ribald songs, and indulging in coarse jests. 
Profound silence, and a respectful clearing of the 
way greeted these supposed spies of the Inquisi- 
tion, A free pass was granted the Familiars 


2/2 


FATHER JEROME. 


everywhere, and no one dared to inquire, Why 
do ye this or that ? ’’ This ordeal was almost too 
much for Don Paulos. His long confinement had 
wrought havoc with his nerves. His breath came 
in gasps, and now and then a pitiful sob was heard. 
Poor man ! Every one he met he fancied was a 
spy of the Inquisition. Every human being seemed 
like a mortal enemy. 

“ Can we not take some more unfrequented 
street ? ” whispered Father Jerome. 

By way of answer, Benito pointed to a dark 
alley down which they passed. They reached the 
city gate in safety, and although the guard looked 
a little surprised to see so many holy men leaving 
the capital at this unseemly hour, no questions 
were asked. 

About half a mile across the vega was the Devil’s 
Cross, and it was there that they found Don Al- 
fonso and his servant awaiting them, with horses. 
The meeting between Father Jerome and his 
friend was affecting. 

“ You here, dear Alfonso, and safe ? Truly my 
cup runneth over,” cried Father Jerome. 

‘^Yes, my friend, and I am told that a greater 
surprise awaits you at the gypsy camp. Your 
troubles are now ended, my comrade. A new life 
full of happiness awaits you.” 

“ If God will ! ” said Father Jerome solemnly. 

There was no time for further conversation, for 


THE ESCAPE, 


273 


Benito bade them mount the horses and prepare 
for a long and dangerous ride. “We must be on 
the lookout for the wandering bands of Herman- 
dad, which are continually scouring the country in 
search of criminals. But we are now prepared to 
make a desperate fight, since we have been rein- 
forced by two able-bodied men.” 

They rode several miles without incident, coming 
out at last upon an old gray stone cross, which 
marked the spot where the two roads met. All 
about them was forest. The rain had now ceased, 
and the moon was struggling to appear through 
the dark clouds. As they turned their horses to 
take the left-hand road, six mounted horsemen 
rode out of an ambush where they had been con- 
cealed, and surrounded the little party. They 
were the dreaded Hermandad, or Brotherhood of 
local police. 

“ Surrender or we fire ! ” cried the leader. 

The only reply which the party of fugitives 
gave was a discharge of firearms, and a bold dash 
was made to pass the officers. The onslaught was 
so unexpected that the policemen were, for the 
instant, disconcerted. Recovering from their sur- 
prise, they returned the fire. Christy was slightly 
wounded in the shoulder, and a bullet grazed 
Father Jerome’s cheek, but they were otherwise 
unharmed. 

The Hermandad gave chase, but the horses pro- 


274 


FATHER JEROME. 


vided by Benito were fresher and swifter, and they 
easily outdistanced their enemies. Before very 
long they left the highway and followed a trail 
through the woods. At last they halted before an 
old building, and Benito rapped loudly on the 
door. A dwarf answered the summons. 

Quien es ? ” he inquired. 

Friends,” replied Benito. 

“ Who knows ! ” returned the surly little man. 

The password, sehors ! ” 

Daggers are sharp to cut knots ! ” said Benito. 

'' All right, enter ! ” The bolts were drawn, 
and the door opened cautiously. The dwarf placed 
some refreshments before the little party. They 
then lay down on the floor before the open fire to 
rest, as the remainder of their journey was to be 
accomplished on foot. 

The dwarf took their horses to a place prepared 
for them in the heart of the forest, and agreed to 
care for them until they were needed. 

After an hour’s rest, the fugkives again sallied 
forth. Christy appeared to be perfectly at home 
in this labyrinth of bushes and trees, and guided 
them with unerring instinct. They were obliged 
to halt frequently to rest. As it was, Father Jerome 
and Don Paulos would have dropped from ex- 
haustion, had it not been for the strong arms of 
their friends. The morning light was beginning 
to show in the east, when they reached the borders 


THE ESCAPE. 


275 


of a deep ravine. Down the steep sides they crept 
cautiously, and as the sun rose above the horizon 
they reached the gypsy encampment, weary and 
footsore. 


CHAPTER XXXL 


AT THE GYPSY CAMP. 

The scene which greeted their eyes was pictur- 
esque. A large fire of brushwood was burning in 
the centre of a wide clearing, and about that cheer- 
ful blaze lounged many dusky figures. Carmen, 
her beautiful face glowing with pleasure, ran to 
meet them. She raised Father Jerome^s out- 
stretched hand and pressed a kiss upon it. 

Welcome, a thousand times welcome to the 
home of the gypsies, senors ! Follow me ! ” 

There were several tents ranged in a semi-circle, 
and into the largest of these, which stood a little 
apart from the rest, Carmen guided her guests. 
Father Jerome looked about him with some curi- 
osity. Alfonso had hinted at a surprise. The 
covering at the door of the tent was thrown back. 
Who was this woman, with a face as radiant as the 
dawn, moving with swift feet toward them ? 

Irene, my beloved ! ” cried Father Jerome in 
a voice which brought tears to the eyes of his lis- 
teners. 

The priest stretched out his arms toward the 

276 


AT THE GYPSY CAMP. 2^/ 

woman he loved, but the overwrought nerves gave 
way at last, and he fell senseless at the feet of Doha 
Irene. 

This swoon was the beginning of a serious ill- 
ness, which lasted several weeks, and which 
brought Father Jerome to the verge of the grave. 
For days his life hung by a thread. At last he re- 
gained his consciousness, and Dr. Sebastian pro- 
nounced the crisis past and recovery certain. 

When the sick man opened his eyes with the 
light of reason in them, he saw the sweet face of 
Doha Irene bending over him. He reached out 
his hand and clasped the soft fingers. His eyes 
eagerly sought her face. At this mute appeal, she 
bent down and pressed her lips to his. 

Mine at last ! he murmured. 

Yes, dearest. God has blessed our love. To 
him be all the praise.” 

The sufferer’s face wore a look of supreme satis- 
faction, and turning from the light, he fell into a 
deep sleep. This was the beginning of a speedy 
convalescence. Father Jerome proved to be an 
exacting invalid. He could not bear to waken 
from sleep and find Doha Irene gone. 

“ He had ceased 

To live within himself : she was his life, 

The ocean to the river of his thoughts 
Which terminated all : upon a tone, 

A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow 
And his cheek change tempestuously.” 


278 FATHER JEROME. 

It was a day of rejoicing for all when Father 
Jerome was able to leave the tent, and leaning on 
the arm of Doha Irene, walked to the fringe of 
pines which skirted the ravine. They sat down 
in the cool fragrant shade to rest. Irene rose to 
gather a spray of scarlet blossoms that caught her 
fancy. Father Jerome followed her with fond 
eyes. He noted the perfect features, the depth and 
purity of expression on that rarely beautiful face, 
and the rounded figure on which nature had lav- 
ished every feminine charm, and he exulted in the 
proud sense of possessorship. 

Irene ! 

She ran quickly to her lover’s side, and raised 
her questioning eyes to his. 

What is it, beloved ? ” 

Her soft fingers clasped his; her sweet lips were 
invitingly near. 

Father Jerome gathered her in a long, close em- 
brace. 

'' Dear heart,” he said at length, “ if our poor 
human love is so strong, so sweet, what must 
God’s love be ! Let us not for one moment forget 
that love which is limitless, unchangeable.” 

A long silence fell between them, and glancing 
up at her companion, Irene noticed that the old 
shadow was resting on the beloved face. 

'' What is troubling you ? ” she anxiously in- 
quired. 


AT THE GYPSY CAMP, 279 

After a momentary hesitation, Fathei Jerome 
said, “ Beloved, can you trust your future happi- 
ness to the keeping of one who has broken the 
most sacred oaths a man can take ? Ay de mi ! 
I feel unworthy of your love.” 

\ “ Dear heart, I thought that question was for- 

ever laid aside. The chains of superstition and 
priestcraft which men wove around you, God has 
broken. Let us give him thanks, and accept the 
gift of love as from his kind hand. For myself, I 
shall consider it my ' title of honor ’ to be the wife 
of Don Rodrigo Valero.” 

A gleam of pleasure appeared on Father 
Jerome’s face at the sound of his new name, and 
he stooped and kissed the lips which were trem- 
bling with strong emotion. This question was 
never raised between them again. 

Don Alfonso felt obliged to leave the gypsy 
camp in a few days after his arrival, for he 
thought it the part of wisdom to heed General 
Borgia’s warning and flee the country. He de- 
cided to sail for England, as his wife had relatives 
in London who would gladly give them shelter. 
Queen Elizabeth had taken neutral ground and, 
so far, had resisted all efforts put forth to make 
her give up the heretics who had emigrated to her 
shores. 

When Don Alfonso asked Dr. Sebastian where 
he should take up his residence, the latter replied. 


28 o 


FATHER JEROME. 


That depends entirely upon Father Jerome’s will 
in the matter. I had thought of going to Paris, 
where my son resides, but rumor informs us that 
persecution has already begun among the Hugue- 
nots. The French monarch is hand and glove with 
King Philip, and especially so since the marriage 
of our sovereign. As soon as we decide the ques- 
tion we will send you word by the king’s post.” 

On Don Alfonso’s trip to San Sebastian, and his 
subsequent removal to England, we have not time 
to dwell; it is enough to know that the trip was 
accomplished in safety. The presence of Father 
Cyprian removed all suspicions. The standing of 
Don Alfonso as an orthodox Catholic gentleman 
was undisputed, and the party were allowed to go 
on board ship, unchallenged. 

Don Manuel was rejoiced at his son’s happiness. 
The sight of Doha Irene awoke sad but precious 
memories of another bright face and proud young 
figure. As long as he lived, his faithful heart would 
remain loyal to the memory of sweet Doha Do- 
lores Valero. A strong friendship had sprung up 
between Don Manuel and Dr. Sebastian, and they 
had many talks over the sad condition of affairs 
in Spain, and the dark outlook for the future. Don 
Manuel’s health grew daily more firm, and his 
mental faculties steadily improved. Now that he 
had his son to live for, he seemed endowed with a 
fresh Iqase of life. 


AT THE GYPSY CAMP. 


281 


It became necessary to come to some decision 
respecting the future. A family conclave was 
therefore held, and Father Jerome was pressed to 
give his opinion. After being assured by Dr. Se- 
bastian and Don Manuel that they had no choice 
of places, Father Jerome finally admitted that he 
preferred Wittenberg, the home of Luther, to any 
other spot outside of Spain. 

“ There at least,” he said, it is an honor to be 
called a Lutheran. Besides,” he added with a sig- 
nificant glance at his betrothed, Wittenberg is 
the place where the wife of an apostate monk will 
not be scorned. I have understood that the name 
of Catherine Von Bora is revered equally with that 
of the great Luther, in that German city.” 

“ To Wittenberg, then, let us go,” said Dr. Se- 
bastian. I think we might dwell there in peace 
and safety. The elector John of Saxony, Philip of 
Hesse, Albert Duke of Prussia, and several other 
of the princes are evangelical in doctrine, and 
since the peace of Augsburg Protestantism has ac- 
quired a legal standing in Germany. Let us emi- 
grate to that country, and found a home to which 
our persecuted brethren can flee. Now that Father 
Jerome is able to travel, I think we had better lose 
no time in leaving Spain.” 

Benito was sorry to part with his friends, but he 
recognized the wisdom of their decision. He 
promised to follow them at no distant day. Words 


282 


FATHER JEROME. 


failed Father Jerome and his friends when they 
tried to express their gratitude to the gypsy chief 
and his daughter Carmen, for the valuable services 
each had rendered. The tears ran down Carmen's 
cheeks as she bade the Doha Irene and Father 
Jerome good-bye. In the heart of this daughter 
of the forest there were noble and generous im- 
pulses. 

Benito offered to guide the party overland to 
the shores of the Bay of Biscay, where they could 
take passage to England and from thence to Ger- 
many. The gypsy chief had friends among the 
sea-captains, and he felt confident that for a con- 
sideration he could smuggle the little party on 
board some sailing vessel. We will spare the 
reader the harrowing details of this long and haz- 
ardous journey. After many thrilling experiences 
and hairbreadth escapes, the faithful Benito se- 
cured a passage for his friends in the sailing vessel 
‘‘ The Hesperus,” bound for English shores. 


CHAPTER XXXIL 


AT WITTENBERG. 

A YEAR after the eVents recorded in the pre- 
vious chapter, an elderly man clad in the costume 
of a Spanish peasant might have been seen walk- 
ing with uncertain steps through the streets of 
Wittenberg. 

“ Can you tell me where I can find a Spanish 
monk, Father Jerome Ortiz ? ” he inquired of a 
passer-by. 

Do not know any such person. Monks are 
not popular in Wittenberg just at present.” 

“Very likely he goes by the name of Valero. 
Know you any one bearing that name ? ” 

“ If you mean the Magister Valero, you will find 
him conducting a religious service in the Univer- 
sity Chapel.” 

The ancient University of Wittenberg was 
pointed out to the peasant, who walked with weary 
steps toward the spot designated. 

In a large hall, entirely devoid of ornamentation, 
were gathered several hundred students. They 
were the sons of the men who had known and re- 

283 


284 


FATHER JEROME. 


vered that '‘ Teutonic impersonation of strength,” 
Luther, and who had helped to promulgate his 
doctrines. The fathers of these students had lived 
in the storm which preceded the birth of religious 
liberty. Their sons were enjoying the calm after- 
glow, and were striving, with more or less eager- 
ness, to catch some sunset rays from this glorious 
past, that they in turn might pass them on to the 
next generation. 

These young men were listening to the eloquent 
words and forceful logic of Magister Valero, who 
had been appointed to occupy the chair of homi- 
letics, and to conduct daily Lutheran services in 
the university chapel. 

The peasant looked eagerly at the preacher. He 
was attired in the costume adopted by the Lu- 
theran ministers of his time. His luxuriant hair, 
tinged with silver, covered the tonsure made by 
the Church of Rome. With the casting aside of 
the monastic garb, he seemed like a new man. His 
figure was erect. There was life and vigor in every 
graceful gesture. His words were strong and con- 
vincing. He was just concluding his sermon, when 
the peasant entered the chapel. The full magnetic 
voice rang out like a clarion: “For Christ when 
he cometh is nothing else but joy and sweetness 
to a trembling and broken heart. I am covered 
under the shadow of Christ’s wings, and dwell with- 
out fear under that most ample heaven of the for- 







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“truly WITTENBERG WAS NOT VALLADOLID.” Page 285. 



AT WITTENBEKG. 


285 


giveness of sins. Christ is our High Priest and our 
only Mediator. This is no heresy, but God’s truth, 
and it must prevail. Let us henceforth be no more 
children tossed to and fro and carried about with 
every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men and 
cunning craftiness whereby they lie in wait to de- 
ceive: but speaking the truth in love, may we grow 
up into him in all things who is the head, even 
Christ, to whom alone be dominion over con- 
science forever and ever.” 

The Spanish peasant crossed himself at these 
words, and looked around him as if expecting to 
see the Inquisitors enter and arrest the bold 
preacher. Truly Wittenberg was not Valladolid. 
Here, the words a man might utter to-day would 
not be turned into a weapon which should smite 
him on the morrow. ‘‘ The calm of religious lib- 
erty had stilled the trembling of the lips, the flush- 
ing of the cheek, and the panting of the stifled 
chest.” 

The service was ended, and the students gath- 
ered about the popular young Magister, to listen 
to his words, but to-day they were brief. The 
preacher had noticed the entrance of the Castilian 
peasant and was anxious to learn who he was, and 
whether his errand was one of peace. He has- 
tened into the vestibule, and there found the ob- 
ject of his search. One glance at the old, but 
kindly face was enough. 


286 


FATHER JEROME. 


Father Ambrose, dear Father Ambrose ! 
was his delighted cry. 

Taking the old man’s arm, and gently leading 
him beyond the gaze of the curious students, he 
said, 

“ Come with me to my home. Have you under- 
taken this long journey solely to find me ? ” 

“ Yes, my son, and to abide with you, if you can 
find room for an old broken-hearted man who has 
not long to live.” 

“We should be only too glad of the benediction 
of your presence,” replied the Magister, “ and I 
know that my dear wife and my father will say the 
same. Our home has been, and I trust always will 
be, a refuge for our tired and oppressed brethren. 
To-day there will be quite a gathering of friends 
at the parsonage, some of whom you know.” 

In a quiet street, in full view of the deserted 
monastery where Luther had made his home, 
stood a quaint old house covered with vines and 
moss. Its many windows, wide porches, and ca- 
pacious chimneys, gave it a hospitable appear- 
ance. The house stood a little way from the street, 
and the walk to the door was flanked with beds 
of sweet-scented flowers. Dona Irene, now the 
honored, happy wife of the Magister Valero, came 
forward to greet her husband’s friend. She re- 
membered the old monk, and had always revered 
him for his kindness to the unfortunate Father 


AT WITTENBERG. 


287 


Jerome. The beautiful young matron in the flush 
of her radiant youth, with the light of love trans- 
figuring her face, was a picture the beholder could 
not readily forget. A few words of tender greet- 
ing passed between husband and wife. They were 
lovers still, and always would be. They were “ set 
each to the other, like perfect music unto noblest 
words.” 

Dr. Sebastian now came in from a long ride into 
the country, accompanied by Don Manuel Valero. 
The doctor had established quite a practice in the 
home of his adoption, and with his reading and 
his scientific researches was a happy as well as 
successful man. Just now he was occupied with 
a project which, if it materialized, -would convert 
the old Augustinian convent into a hospital. 

Don Manuel was comparatively a well man, al- 
though his long confinement in prison had left in- 
delible traces on his face and his constitution. He 
busied himself with horticultural pursuits, and 
took keen delight in caring for the flowers and 
shrubs which made the old garden a glimpse of 
Paradise. His mind never recovered its natural 
vigor and tone, and many of the old superstitions 
and shreds of popery clung to his faith. But his 
gentle ways, his uniform sweetness of disposition, 
and fervent trust in God, proclaimed his kinship 
with the followers of Christ. 

It was evident from the unusual bustle and con- 


288 


FATHER JEROME. 


fusion that guests were expected. Two buxom 
German girls were assisting old Ursula, and flitted 
in and out of the large dining-hall, adding touches 
to the already tastefully arranged table. 

The sound of carriage Wheels was heard. A 
young man, tenderly carrying a precious bundle 
wrapped in shawls, alighted, followed by his 
sprightly, vivacious wife. 

“ Consuelo ! ’’ cried the Dona Irene, as she ran 
to meet her friend. 

It was indeed Don Alfonso de Menillo, Dona 
Consuelo, and their infant son Rodrigo, who had 
arrived from London to make their beloved friends 
a visit. Hardly had these greetings ceased, when 
Don Carlos Sebastian and his Huguenot wife ap- 
peared. The doctor’s son was located in a small 
village a few miles out of Wittenberg, as a 
preacher of the gospel. He would never be a 
strong, robust man, and he had a halting step, but 
he did not aspire to great things. He was con- 
tent to be allowed to work, even in a remote cor- 
ner of the Master’s kingdom. Together with his 
wife, the sweet sister Marguerite, they had fled 
from France on account of the persecution of the 
Huguenots. 

After dinner, the party of friends gathered in 
the comfortable sitting-room. Father Ambrose, 
as the latest arrival from the homeland, was the 
guest of honor. 


AT WITTENBERG, 


289 


'' Tell US first about yourself, Father Ambrose,” 
said the Magister Valero. ‘‘ How have you fared 
since I last saw you ? ” 

Tears stood in the old priest’s eyes as he an- 
swered, '' My son, after your marvellous escape, 
the whole brotherhood of the Jesuits looked 
askance at me, knowing that I was your friend. I 
was immediately recalled from Soria, and have re- 
mained secluded in the convent at Valladolid, per- 
forming menial services for the brethren. Rarely 
was I allowed beyond the precincts of the con- 
vent. - Father Gregory seemed to entertain the 
strongest dislike for me, after your escape. I be- 
lieve that, secretly. General Borgia and Father 
Padilla were glad that you were not sacrificed in 
the Auto: the former because he really had feel- 
ings of affection for his favorite pupil, and the lat- 
ter because the honor of the House of the Jesuits 
was at stake. One night I overheard Father 
Gregory say to the Superior, ‘ Father Ambrose is 
growing more imbecile every day. There is no 
doubt but what he is half crazed. He is far from 
being an ornament to our institution. Cannot he 
be removed quietly ? ’ I waited to hear no more. 
Whether his words meant death or imprisonment, 
I know not. That very night I stole out of the 
convent and went directly to my peasants in Soria. 
They gladly concealed me until the search was 
over, and then they helped me out of the country. 


290 


FATHER JEROME. 


I am a weary, lonely old man, whose longing is 
for rest. My faith in the Holy and Apostolic 
Catholic Church is sadly shaken. I am like a 
wrecked ship, whose timbers are lying useless and 
decaying on the shore. Yet I cling to the cross of 
my Lord and I long to hear him say, ‘ Weary pil- 
grim, come home.’ ” 

“We cannot spare you yet, dear Father Am- 
brose,” said the Magister. “ Make your home with 
us. There are Christ’s poor and sick and troubled 
ones to be helped. The Master has need of your 
service, if the Jesuits have not.” 

“ Thanks, my son. Your words comfort me. I 
have cut the last cable which bound me to the 
shore of happy days, and a new life is beginning 
for me. Perhaps,” he added, “ you would like to 
learn the particulars of the great Auto, at which 
you were doomed to suffer the death penalty.” 

The Dona Irene shuddered and drew nearer her 
husband. 

“ The Don Carlos de Seso, Fray de Rojas, and 
the nobleman’s servant Juan Sanchez, were burned 
alive at the stake. As De Rojas passed King 
Philip on his way to the Quemadero he said, 

“ ‘ Canst thou, sire, thus witness the torments 
of thy innocent subjects ? Save us from so cruel 
a death ! ’ 

“ Philip’s answer was characteristic: ‘ I would 
mvself carrv wood to burn my so’n, were he such a 


AT WITTENBERG. 


291 


wretch as thou ! ’ The Fray attempted to speak 
farther, but the king waved his hand, and the gag 
was forced into the martyr's mouth, and was not 
removed at the stake. 

“ The night before De Seso .was executed, he 
called for writing materials and wrote, not a con- 
fession of error, as the monks expected, but a con- 
fession of faith. He gave the document to an 
officer: ‘ This is the true faith of the Gospel, as 
opposed to that of the Church of Rome, which has 
been corrupted for ages. In this faith I wish to 
die.' He appeared on the scaffold gagged, but it 
was removed at the stake, and the monks once 
more clamored for his recantation. He replied, 
‘ I could demonstrate to you that you ruin your- 
selves by not imitating my example. But there is 
no time. Executioners, light the pile which is to 
consume me.' He died without a groan or a 
symptom of a struggle." 

Tears fell from the eyes of his listeners, at this 
record of Christian heroism. 

Did you hear aught concerning Julian the Lit- 
tle ? " inquired Dr. Sebastian. 

“ Yes. All Spain has echoed with the account 
of the wonderful courage exhibited by the little 
dwarf. He was tortured repeatedly, but he would 
not implicate his brethren. At his trial he en- 
couraged his fellow prisoners to endure as valiant 
soldiers of Jesus Christ. He was not allowed to 


292 


FATHER JEROME. 


Speak at the stake, but he died calmly, even tri- 
umphantly/’ 

'' Have you ever heard anything concerning the 
fate of Maria Gonzalez ? ” said the Magister. “ I 
have been fearful that sooner or later her kindly 
offices to the prisoners would be discovered and 
punished.” 

“ Ay de mi ! ” said Father Ambrose. Any 
child in Spain can tell you about the alcalde’s ser- 
vant, Maria Gonzalez. Her kindness was discov- 
ered, and she received two hundred lashes and was 
condemned to perpetual imprisonment. I do not 
know whether she lived through that terrible bas- 
tinado, but I pray that God may have taken her to 
himself ere this. The Reformed Church has been 
suppressed, and the Inquisition has triumphed.” 

Silence fell upon the little company after Father 
Ambrose had ceased. Then Don Alfonso said. 
Will the Inquisition do for Spain what the word 
of God would have done had it been allowed free 
access ? Will the Autos do more for her than that 
devoted band of men and women would have done, 
had their voices not been silenced ? ” 

The Lord reigneth ! ” said the Magister Va- 
lero solemnly. “ God cannot die and he will take 
care of his own. ' Beyond the fatal dart of disease 
or the withering touch of age, or the missiles of 
battle or the cowardly arm of the Inquisition, he 
lives and reigns. His throne, girt with justice and 


AT WITTENBERG. 


293 


judgment, mercy and truth, is forever and ever ! ’ 
This is our hope and our consolation.” 

In the gray stone pile called the Escorial, which 
served the threefold purpose of palace, monastery, 
and tomb, Philip the Second lay dying. The pur- 
pose, to the accomplishing of which he had de- 
voted his life, was cruelly fulfilled. The fires of 
the Inquisition burned without intermission until 
1570^ when they ceased from lack of material. 
Philip had wiped Lutheran heresy out of Spain. 
The Auto de Fe gleaned only a solitary Lutheran 
now an.d then, with which to furnish amusement 
for the pleasure-loving populace. 

Even in this life the despotic tyrant was pun- 
ished: a loathsome disease smote him, which 
ended his career. He was literally devoured alive 
by innumerable vermin, which had developed in 
his gouty joints; and this exquisite torture, which 
rivalled even the diabolical ingenuity of the In- 
quisition, served as a physical expiation of the 
enormities of his seventy-one years. 

The historian tells us that the king’s last words 
were these: die like a good Catholic, in faith 

and obedience to the Holy Roman Church.” A 
paroxysm passed over this “ bedfut of crowned 
misery,” and Philip, the second Nero, was dead. 






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